Rule of Thirds
by KungFuHime2009
Summary: Ingrid Third receives a letter from someone calling himself VERMEER. Fillmore and Ingrid must work together to figure out who this person is, but society at X-High is different than X-Middle. Will popularity and the ever-present criminal element eventually rip this dynamic to shreds? UPDATED JULY 18TH
1. The Girl with a Pearl Earring

Ingrid Third made the trek from X-High School toward home. Her safety patrol badge sat heavily in her dress pocket as she waited for the light to change at an intersection. It had been a busy few days at HQ. The fake school ID ring had been caught. Junior Commissioner Vallejo was finally able to present the case to Principal Millar that afternoon. Fillmore's week on undercover duty was finally over, and a good thing too. Ingrid's nails had been chewed down to nothing from worry. It was true what they said when they graduated from X-Middle School Safety Patrol; _The stakes get higher as you move farther up the ladder._

Fillmore would be receiving an award from the student government at Friday's pep rally. A lot of press was expected to be covering the ceremony and Ingrid was being placed on crowd control. As excited as she was to see her best friend decorated for his efforts, Ingrid knew better than to believe the crime ring was done. Sure, they'd be out of commission for a few months, but another would soon take its place. Criminal activity was coming out of the seams of this school. Another problem was her reputation. Ever since Fillmore and Third had taken down the textbook thieves in September they'd been the talk of the school. Fillmore was quite poplar with the student body, but Ingrid was not.

Ingrid was often called out for her nonconformity and antisocial attitude in middle school. That had not changed since moving up to high school. If anything, it had gotten worse.

_**BRRT**_

Ingrid's phone vibrated as she crossed the street.

"Third." Ingrid answered.

"Ingrid," It was her sister, Ariella. "We need more eggs. Can you stop by the store on your way home?"

"Sure." Ingrid made a detour and headed in the direction of the local grocer. She rifled through her backpack for her wallet and was surprised when an envelope fell from the front pocket. Strange, she almost never kept things in that pocket, due to its diminutive size. She picked up the envelope, letter size but made from a thick cream-colored cardstock. Her name was written in black flair pen with great flourish.

"Where?" She stuffed it back in the front flap and zipped it securely shut. Eggs first, questions later. She paid for a dozen eggs and hurried the short distance to her house.

"Got the eggs?" Ariella was in the kitchen with a large cookbook. Their father wouldn't be home from the University for a little while. Ingrid placed the grocery bag on the counter.

"Gotta motor. Calculus homework doesn't do itself." Ingrid hurried upstairs before her sister could object. The excuse had been lame at best. Ingrid was at the top of her honors calculus class and never used homework as an excuse for anything. Still, the envelope was burning a hole in her mind. She kicked off her black sneakers and plopped down on the bed. She pulled the envelope out carefully and flipped it over. On the back was a bright red wax seal with the letter V imprinted in it. The red dollop held shut the thick flap. Ingrid carefully tore the cardstock flap, keeping the wax seal unharmed. Inside the envelope was a single sheet of white linen paper.

"Crackers." Ingrid gasped. In the top left hand corner was a pencil sketch of her looking over her shoulder. The pose was familiar, but for the moment wasn't very important. The rest of the paper was covered in a neatly written jumble of letters.

IATEPUNTCHWLN

CNHLBTOIEOAOE

YUOKNORAHMDYUOIEO

OLOOYUWYOEOONTCHW

OTIACYUNINXIENRDLMLU

FEWTHOUTLETMIGIALYOE

VRER

EME

She set the linen paper down on her pillow and pulled her laptop off her nightstand. It powered up when she lifted the lid. She knew this type of messaging. She'd studied codes as a kid while traveling with her family.

**Search: Railroad Cypher**

Ingrid took out a pencil and scrap piece of paper from her bag and began to decode the message.

I can't help but notice how alone you look on your way home. Do you notice how often I watch you? Until next time Ingrid. All my love,

Vermeer

Ingrid felt a great unease seep into her chest. Who was sending her this note? Was she being stalked home? If so, how long had this been going on? Who was this Vermeer? Certainly not the famous painter, though the sketch's pose made a lot of sense now. The sender had drawn her to resemble The Girl with a Girl Earring. Another troubling question was how the letter had gotten in her bag. Her things were kept in the locker she'd been assigned at HQ when her application with the force had gone through. It was locked away and on her person when not in her locker.

"Ingrid! Dad's home! I could use some help with the Quiche!" Ariella called from downstairs.

"I'll be down in a sec!" She called back. She pulled up her IM and sent a quick message to Fillmore.

**3Crackers3: Something strange ended up in my backpack. Could use a second opinion.**

A/N: Been a long time since I wrote anything. Senior year has been brutal to me. SO HAVE THE PLOT BUNNIES! Hopefully I'll be more dedicated to my stories once I get my new laptop. Until then, R&R readers!

~KungFuHime


	2. Water, Water, Everywhere

**3Crackers3: Something strange ended up in my backpack. Could use a second opinion.**

"Oh snap!" Cornelius Fillmore checked his phone for the first time in hours. The timestamp on Ingrid's message was for 4:59 pm. It was after 10 now. When had his phone buzzed last? There was that phantom vibration in his pocket while in line for the movie. He'd shut it off before the film started and forgotten to switch it back on when he'd gotten home. No sense in sending a message now though. Ingrid was probably asleep already. He felt bad. Ingrid was his best friend and he'd totally ignored her. He decided to make it up to her in the form of egg rolls, her favorite food.

_brrt!_

"Fillmore."

"How's my old partner doing?" Wade's voice was a comfort to him.

"Hey man. I'm cool. What's up?"

"Just checking in. How did the case go?" Wade went right for the serious stuff. It had been a while since he'd been in contact with Wade. A serious undercover operation had forced him to go dark. Only Vallejo and a couple others were able to make contact. Wade and, to a greater extend, Ingrid were people he wasn't allowed to talk to. That was different now. The gang was caught and the ring broken up. He told Wade as much and his friend was pleased to hear it.

"Scary stuff, huh. Not what we were used to doing back in the day."

"I don't know. You and I got into some jams back then while undercover. It's not that different." Fillmore laughed. "Is that a slight Tennessee accent I detect?"

"Yeah. Kinda grows on yah when you live out here this long." Wade had moved to Tennessee three years prior, during Seventh Grade. "How's Ingrid, by the way?"

"I guess she's okay. Adjusting to High School like the rest of us. The exam to get into the Safety Patrol was brutal!"

"I hear yah! Nearly failed the written portion myself!" Wade laughed.

"Ingrid passed with flying colors, naturally. I did okay, but nowhere near as good as her. My letter of recommendation from Principal Fulsom and Vallejo's good word were probably the only reason I made the cut." Fillmore smile to himself. "Ingrid's already rumored to be the smartest girl in school. Bet she'll accidentally make valedictorian senior year."

"Nothing in her way. If there were she'd probably just squash it with her heel and keep going." Wade and Fillmore both knew Ingrid pretty well. Their conversation went on until Fillmore remembered he had to get some sleep. Wade said good-bye and that he'd call again later in the week.

The next day, Fillmore entered Safety Patrol HQ with a steaming bag from the Egg Rollery. Ingrid was sitting at her desk pouring over her laptop screen.

"Those for me?" She didn't look up. Her tone was its usual flat line. Fillmore still didn't know how to read Ingrid's moods too well.

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't message you back last night. By the time I got your message it was real late." Ingrid shrugged and looked up from her screen. She yawned slightly and stretched as Fillmore handed her a wrapped egg roll.

"So, what was it you wanted to talk about?" Ingrid pulled her black backpack from under her desk and removed a scratch piece of paper. She handed it to him before munching on the egg roll. Fillmore looked at the strange jumble of letters and the sketch through his round rimmed glasses. He tried to make sense of the message, but couldn't figure it out.

"What's this?" He asked.

"I found it in my bag yesterday while I was getting groceries. It's a coded message for me." She pulled out another piece of paper she'd written the decoded message on. Fillmore read it and furrowed his brows.

"Weird. Who's Vermeer?" Ingrid shrugged and took another egg roll from the bag.

"No idea. It's definitely an alias though. Vermeer is a long dead painter. The sketch is an interesting tie in." Fillmore looked at the sketch more carefully.

"Girl with a Pearl Earring."

"Disco." Ingrid nodded. Fillmore handed back the papers.

"It could just be a secret admirer." Ingrid about choked on her egg roll.

"What?!" The room of patrollers all glanced over at Third as she drank down a cup of cocoa to clear her throat. It was not often she raised her voice. Fillmore chuckled.

"Just saying. That kind of stuff happens here more than you'd think." Ingrid shook her head.

"Look at me Fillmore. I'm pale. I wear all black. I carry my lunch in an Abraham Lincoln lunchbox. I highly doubt there's a guy writing me cryptic and, quite frankly, stalkerish notes." Ingrid tugged on her black pleated skirt for emphasis. She was wearing a black long sleeve button up shirt and black tights with the skirt and her signature heavy-duty black shoes. Fillmore had never scrutinized Ingrid's fashion sense or tastes in accessories before. Why would he? Ingrid was his friend. Now he looked at her, as if for the first time in two years. When had she gotten so tall? Sure, he was still taller, but dang! She was easily 5' 4".

"Fillmore! Third! Get in here!" Vallejo was standing in the door of his office. Ingrid got up and stuffed the rest of the eggroll in her mouth before crossing to the door. Fillmore followed, watching her walk. She had skinny legs. When had Ingrid changed so much? Had he changed this much? He cleared his mind the moment he entered the office. He'd figure out where the time had gone when he was off duty.

"You two. I need you on an incident in the cafeteria. There was a fight in the breakfast line and some kids got hurt. Get their statements and figure out what happened."

"We're on it." Fillmore said. Ingrid and Fillmore headed for the door.

"Third. A word, please." Ingrid told Fillmore she'd catch up and returned to Vallejo's desk.

"Yeah?"

"You've been a bit of a loner this year. Anything you wanna talk about?" Ingrid was surprised by Vallejo's question. She'd heard it before, a long time ago.

"I guess so." Ingrid rubbed her arm uncomfortably.

"Remember, you're not alone here. You've got friends in this building. Fillmore, Tehama, Anza, O' Farrell, we're all here for you." Ingrid nodded and left the office. She knew Vallejo was just looking out for her. It was true that she had been a bit of a recluse since starting at the high school, but she was in an all new environment. It was a new recipe and she was getting used to the spices.

Ingrid made her way to the cafeteria. The hallways were full of students making their way to class and retrieving their books from the lockers. The crowds got thicker as she neared the entrance to X-High's massive eating area. The smell of breakfast catering was mouth-watering as Ingrid presented her badge to the patrollers in the doorway. Fillmore was helping another patroller breakup another fight between two older boys. Most likely juniors. Several trays of breakfast food were scattered on the linoleum floor. The servers were attempting to clean up the space. When the two boys were split up their fury seemed to simmer down, though the death glares across the room were deadly enough.

"What happened?" Ingrid asked. Fillmore sighed and sat one of the boys down at a lunch table. He was somewhat tall with a bad case of acne and a messed up mop top. He wore khakis and a Dancy Lads t-shirt.

"Let's find out." He pulled out his phone and began recording. "State you name for the record."

"What's it to you!?" The boy grumbled. He was nursing a banged up right fist. The knuckles were angry-looking and would likely swell up in a few hours.

"You can tell us now or we can arrange for the principal to ask all the questions." Fillmore leaned in closer tot he boy's face. The boy leaned back a bit and then seemed to give up being tough for the moment.

"Chester Colman."

"Chester, seems you got yourself into a fight. Mind telling us what this is about?" Chester's face got a little red as he pressed his mouth into a think, angry, line.

"Look, I was just getting something to eat. Frasier's got it in for me! He shows up to shake me down once a week and I'm sick of it!"

"Frasier was the other guy?" Ingrid nodded tot he boy being questioned on the other end of the cafeteria. Chester nodded.

"Dad said I should stop letting guys like him walk all over me." Chester slouched in the chair and blew a clump of hair out of his eyes.

"You realize the consequences of your actions, right? You didn't have to beat on him like that." Ingrid crossed her arms. "You'll be lucky if you get off with just detention. Fist fighting is punishable with suspension here."

"Well, aren't you just the smart one." Chester glared at Ingrid. "And you just letting her talk down at me like I'm just a kid. What's the matter with you man?" Fillmore was caught off-guard. Ingrid did her best not to get irritated.

"Ingrid, why don't you find out Frasier's side of this." Ingrid was miffed. Fillmore should be agreeing with her. She'd quoted the school policy accurately enough. What was wrong with that. After an uncomfortable moment of blankly staring at her partner, she walked to the other end of the cafeteria. Frasier's statement was just as accusatory as Chester's, though the victim/bully roles had been reversed. Frasier claimed Chester was cutting in front of him in line for the 5th consecutive day. Ingrid needed a break from the drama and went up to one of the vending machines. She flattened a couple singles and waited as the machine poured out a cup of hot cocoa.

"Sorry 'bout that." Fillmore walked up to her as the machine sputtered out the last few drops of hot liquid. "He was getting jumpy. I didn't want him jumping up on you like he did the other guy." Ingrid sipped her cocoa in silence for a moment.

"I didn't mean anything. I was just making sure he wasn't leaving anything out." Fillmore nodded.

"I know." Fillmore took out a couple singles and bought a power bar, which he stuffed into his pocket for later. "Wanna head back? We're pretty much done here."

"Sure." Ingrid and Fillmore walked back up the crowded hallway toward HQ. Occasionally, Fillmore stopped to say hi to a friend or exchange some multi-step handshake with another friend. When had he met all these "friends"? Ingrid didn't know any of them. She did spot Tehama and Anza in the hallway holding hands, though. She decided not to bother them. Ever since the first day of school they'd been attached at the lips as if all life depended on it. Suddenly, a loud scream rang through the hallways. A boy pushed past many students in the hallway as he ran toward the gymnasium. Ingrid was knocked into a row of lockers as the runner made his escape. Her hot cocoa splashed all over her shirt and face.

"I got this! Call it in!" Fillmore was gone in a blur as Ingrid wiped the liquid out of her eyes and ran toward the nearest hall monitor. She didn't bother asking, and grabbed his walkie-talkie.

"This is Officer Thrid! We have a runner in the halls heading toward the gymnasium from the south end. Officer Fillmore is in pursuit." The static buzzed through.

"Sending backup. Third! Head for the gym via the pool. Try and cut the runner off." Ingrid ran down the halls as fast as she could. Her face was sticky not that the cocoa was drying off and she smelled overwhelmingly like chocolate, but she put those thoughts aside as she weaved in between students and staff members. She knew the layout of the school by heart, photographic memory and all. The pool was on the east side of the gym and the closest exit to the south entrance. What she would have given for her scooter about now.

Ingrid reached the door and burst through it just as the swim team began their laps. Puddles were everywhere and the coach blew her whistle at Ingrid.

"No running in here!" But Ingrid didn't listen. She hopped over the puddles and reached the east gym entrance. At that very moment, the runner threw open the double doors. He was coming straight at her like a wall with leg. Her shoes skidded on the wet tile as she attempted to stop and she slammed into the runner's side. This didn't affect him in any way, and he simply pushed Ingrid out of his way without breaking stride. She plummeted into the water with a resounding crash.

_A/N: Sorry for the wait. Classes have been murder. But, since this is a school related fic, it's getting easier to write. Thank you for the reviews that I didn't expect to get! They are much appreciated! On a side note, yes the painting referenced is a real painting. Also, the railroad cypher is a real code I learned to write. I love codes and art so expect more of that in the chapters to follow! R&R!_

_~KungFuHime2009_


	3. You're not the Bossa Me

Ingrid sat wrapped in a thick towel while the school nurse shined a flashlight in her eyes. Her vision went in and out as the flashlight did it's job.

"No bumps or bruises. Fall like that could have done some serious harm." The nurse commented.

"What can I say, I'm lucky." Ingrid smirked.

"You'll need a change of clothes. If you don't have anything in the building you'll have to call home for something."

"I've got my gym clothes in my locker back at HQ." Ingrid was handed a phone by the nurse, who left Ingrid's side to check on a sick girl in another exam room. Vallejo picked up immediately.

"Safety Patrol."

"Vallejo. It's Ingrid. Can you have Tehama bring my gym clothes from my bag? It's under my desk."

"Sure thing. Fillmore told me what happened. Runner got away after your fall, but Anza's checking around to ID him. Shouldn't be long now."

"Right, I'll be back as soon as they discharge me. Did we find out why he was running?" Ingrid asked.

"As far as we can tell, he's just a runner. Nothing has been reported missing in the past half hour since the incident." Vallejo sighed.

"Okay, thanks for the info." Ingrid hung up and waited patently for Tehama to show up. While she waited, she busied herself with reconstructing the chase. There was the runner in the hallway, a white male with broad shoulders and wide upper arms. Possibly an athlete. His face was hidden by a large black hoodie. There was a lingering image in her mind, a logo on the left shoulder of the hoodie. She never got a clear look at it but maybe Anza could let her look at the security tapes.

"Hey there Ingrid." Tehama entered the examination room with a pink t-shirt and orange shorts under her arm.

"Those aren't my gym clothes." Ingrid raised an eyebrow. Tehama nodded and set them on the end of the exam table.

"Sorry, their mine. Yours weren't in your bag. Had to improvise." Ingrid sighed and began dressing. Her hair was wrapped in a towel the nurse had given her. Luckily, it was only damp now. Her clothes went into a plastic bag to be taken home.

"I brought you my spare sandals too. Sorry the ensemble isn't more low-key." Tehama handed Ingrid a pair of yellow flip-flops.

"It's okay." Ingrid hopped off the exam table just as the nurse reentered the room.

"You can go back to work now officer. Take this form and return it by the end of the week." Ingrid took the form, a physical evaluation. It needed a parent signature to be filed in the records office. Ingrid and Tehama exited into the hall.

"You sure you're okay?" Tehama asked suddenly.

"Yeah, why?" Tehama shrugged.

"I saw the footage Anza was watching. You didn't just fall into the water. You were pushed really hard. You ended up in the middle of the deep end, far from the wall. That takes significant force." Ingrid nodded.

"The bulk of the hit was on my elbows. I was luck the swim team was already off the block, or else I could have hit someone." At that moment a wolf whistle echoed in the semi-empty hallways. Tehama and Ingrid saw Joel Evergreen leaning against a row of lockers. He gave them a quick wave.

"Looking good officers." He smiled. Ingrid suppressed a shudder and just walked faster. Tehama flipped him off before catching up to Ingrid.

"Man I hate him." Ingrid sighed. Joel Evergreen was the bane of every high school girl's existence. He enjoyed making suggestive remarks about the freshman girls and their clothing. He saw his authority as a Junior at X-High as a free pass to be as loud as he liked. The girls entered HQ and were greeted by O'Farrell.

"Ingrid! I'm really glad you're okay!" He hugged her a little harder than she would have liked.

"Thanks Danny. Uh, can you let go? I'm kinda smooshed." O'Farrell let go and chuckled.

"Sorry. Just glad you're okay." He headed back to his desk. Anza was at a work station with Fillmore, a laptop, and some CDs. Ingrid headed over to join them.

"Oh snap!" Fillmore's jaw fell open. Anza covered his mouth to smother the snickering.

"What?" Ingrid felt a flush rushing to her cheeks.

"You look terrible." Fillmore smirked. Ingrid knew he was just kidding around. Still, that kind of hurt.

"My gym clothes weren't in my bag. Must have forgotten them today. They're Tehama's digs." Anza sobered up quick when he saw Tehama eyeballing him from across the room. Never judge your girlfriend's fashion sense. It'll get you nothing but trouble.

"Is this the footage from the chase?" Ingrid leaned over Anza's shoulder to see the laptop screen.

"Yeah. We were just getting it cued up now." Fillmore hovered over Anza's other shoulder.

"The runner had a logo on the shoulder of his hoodie. I didn't get a good look before I hit the water."

"I'll see what I can get." Anza hit the play button. The footage was a long edit from several different cameras. The first one took place in the hallways by the science wing. The runner appeared out of a crowd of students entering the chemistry classrooms. He ran up the hallway and caught the attention of Fillmore and Third. From there he made his way through the gymnasium, causing chaos where ever he went. Ingrid watched the video of her fall. The runner continued toward the exit by the Croquet Fields. There were no cameras on the field.

"Bring it back to the pool footage." Fillmore said. Anza backed up the footage and played it from that point. "Pause!" The image stopped just as Ingrid was taking flight. The runner's arm was pushing her the considerable distance toward the water. His shoulder had a clear logo on it.

"Can we blow it up?" Ingrid asked. Anza magnified the frame and the logo became much clearer. It was a big **X **with two circles connected to either side. The letters **B-O-S-S-A** were visible in smaller writing below the logo.

"It's an X-High BossaBall hoodie!" Anza gasped. Fillmore and Ingrid gave him identical looks of confusion.

"What's BossaBall?" Ingrid asked.

"What's BossaBall?!" Tehama laughed across the room. "Boy did you ask the right guy!" Anza smiled wider than they'd ever seen him smile.

"BossaBall is one of the greatest new sports ever invented!" He rushed to his desk and pulled out a binder. He waved them over and opened the cover. Inside were clippings from the X-High Examiner Sports section. Ingrid hadn't picked up a copy of the Examiner in weeks. When she had, she'd only read the sections that interested her. Sports was something that had stopped interesting her in 8th grade.

"BossaBall is a sport that combines volleyball, beach soccer, gymnastics, and capoeira. That last one's a dance martial arts fusion. You play on a large inflatable bouncy field with a net in the middle and try to score points in these circles on either side of the net. The circles are trampolines guarded by a goalie. The trampoline shots are 3 points while the rest of the field is only 1 point. Your team can only touch the ball 8 times and only once per player with their hands. It's really cool to watch because the teams take advantage of the 8 touch rule to show off some sick flips and airtime!" Anza smiled as Fillmore flipped through his collection of clippings.

"Dawg. And I thought I'd seen it all." Every person playing in the photos were wearing jerseys with the logo. Fillmore found a team shot farther into the collection. There were six guys and a coach wearing the sweatshirt from the security footage. He held it up for the others to see.

"Do they sell these hoodies in the school apparel store?" Ingrid asked. Anza shook his head.

"Sport's not well-known enough. If they did, I'd own one in a heartbeat!" He laughed.

"All these guys match the physical description Ingrid and I made." Fillmore smiled at his partner.

"Guess this means we have a lead. Thanks Anza." Ingrid smiled. Fillmore handed back the binder.

"See if you can find any recent articles at the Examiner's office." Ingrid and Fillmore headed for the athletic department to ask about the BossaBall team.

"BossaBall team? Yes, I believe they have practice after school today on the croquet fields. Same as usual." Ingrid nodded to the secretary of the athletics department.

"Can we have a team list for the Bossaball players?"

"Just a moment." Fillmore and Ingrid waited patiently for the woman to print off the list.

"So, the BossaBall team practices on the croquet fields every Tuesday after school." Ingrid began thinking aloud.

"And the croquet fileds is where the runner went." Fillmore finished the thought.

"We still don't know why he ran. For all we know he was late to a gym class or something." Ingrid sighed.

"Doesn't change that fact that he was disturbing the peace and assaulted an officer." Fillmore grumbled. Ingrid shrugged. Why was Fillmore suddenly so angry with this guy?

"I have the list right here. I hope it's helpful." Ingrid took the list and she and Fillmore exited into the hall.

"Crackers!" Fillmore jumped when Ingrid pointed to a name on the list.

"Chester Colman is on the Bossaball team!?" Ingrid nodded.

"The same Chester Colman we met this morning in the cafeteria."

"Wanna bet he knows why our runner was in such a hurry to get to the croquet fields?" Fillmore smirked. Ingrid smiled back.

"You go check out Colman. I'm gonna run the rest of this list with Tehama. Shouldn't take too long, there's only five team members." Ingrid took out her walkie-talkie and turned it on.

"Channel 3. I'll radio when I have something." Fillmore turned on his talkie and hurried off to the attendance office. Ingrid headed back to HQ. When she got there she found Tehama at her desk with Anza. They were chatting animatedly while looking over an orange flier.

"Hey! Ingrid! Come over here!" Anza smiled. Ingrid joined them.

"What's the latest on the BossaBall lead?" Tehama put down the flier, an announcement of some kind.

"Fillmore and I got ahold of the players list from the athletics office. Turns out one of the kids we were questioning in the cafeteria this morning was a member of X's Bossa team. Chester Colman." Anza lit up at the mention of the name.

"Hoopster Colman!" Anza laughed. "He's the BossaBall MVP two years running. His signature move is a backflip spike into the opponent's hoop. Always a crowd pleaser." Tehama elbowed his to bring him out of his sports fueled frenzy.

"Well, Hoopster is potentially facing detention time for that fight this morning unless an arrangement with the Safety Patrol can be made. Fillmore is tracking him down to get a word in about the team." Ingrid put the team list on Tehama's desk. "Karen, can you do a quick check on the rest of the team?" Tehama cracked her knuckles and began surfing the network.

"What were you two talking about just now." Anza pulled out the flier and handed it to Ingrid.

"Just got delivered to everyone's mailboxes." The orange flier was the announcement of the annual Safety Patrol Charity Dance. Proceeds from the dance would go to a charity chosen by the student council. The theme was masquerade.

"Dance is only a month away. Sounds like it's gonna be a blast." Tehama smiled as she continued to pull up student profiles. Ingrid eyed Anza inquisitively.

"I'm guessing you and Tehama are going." Anza blushed slightly.

"Thought kinda crossed my mind." Tehama swung around in her rolling chair and face Anza dangerously.

"It better have." Ingrid smiled at her two friends. Their relationship had been inevitable. They'd been intellectual equals since 7th grade and friends since 4th grade. They often finished each other's sentences or knew just what to do to help out. Made for each other was an understatement.

"The profiles are printing." Tehama smile and nudged her thumb toward the copier at the back of the room. Ingrid nodded and hurried to collect the research. The copier was right next to her desk, making the trip convenient. She sat down in her own rolling chair and laid out the papers. Her mail was on stacked on top of the four books she kept on her desk_; David Copperfield, Silence of the Lambs, Odd Thomas, The Green Mile, _and_ Jane Eyre_. She picked up her own copy of the dance announcement and put it in her backpack, still open on the floor. Her hand glanced across something soft. She pulled out a silk flower, blue dahlia. Attached was a postcard with the painting _A Lady Writing_. Ingrid detached the postcard and turned it over. On the back was another coded message. It was different form the first one. This code was a series of stick figures in different positions.

"Dancing men." Ingrid smiled to herself. She knew this code from a Sherlock Holmes story. She knew the last sentence was going to be "All my love, Vermeer" and that any word with six letters in it was likely to be her own name. She used the process of elimination and quickly scrawled out the decoded message.

Nasty fall you had there Ingrid. The runner was obviously stronger than must. Perhaps too strong. All my love,

Vermeer

Ingrid's mind was racing. How had Vermeer known about her fall? That had only happened an hour ago. What did her mean by "too strong"? She stuffed the flower and postcard in her desk drawer and began looking over her forgotten profiles. There wasn't much on the team members that looked incriminating.

Dalton Deleon: Sophomore. Age 16.

Outstanding Offenses: Late to class, personal hygiene demerits

Classification: Athlete

Brian Howell: Junior. Age 17.

Outstanding Offenses: None

Classification: Athlete

Jake Bernard: Freshman Age 15.

Outstanding Offenses: Late to class, backtalkery, faking an illness

Classification: Athlete

Sol Perez: Junior. Age 17.

Outstanding Offenses: None.

Classification: Athlete

Ingrid focused her research on Jake Bernard and Dalton Deleon, since Brian and Sol had no priors to go on. She pulled up the last two month's worth of patrolman's reports. Jake and Dalton were both brought in on the same day a month ago after they were caught in the halls fifteen minutes into first period. Both resisted being brought in and were written up by Sophomore patroller, Helga Waller. Ingrid had not gotten to know the other patroller in HQ, preferring to make small talk with Tehama and Anza or O'Farrell. Fillmore's absence had forced her into a period of isolationism, where she barely talked to anyone when her friends weren't present. But now that she was on a case she felt no problem in talking to another patroller.

Helga Waller was a broad shouldered teen with glasses and a severe bun of red hair. She wore sweatshirts and jeans everyday and was a tough customer when the perps were getting cranky. Ingrid walked over to Helga's desk without apprehension.

"Helga, right?" Helga looked up from a copy of the X-High Examiner.

"Yeah. Ingrid, right?" Helga's gruff voice came from a thin line of a mouth set in a stony face with slight freckling.

"I read that you write up a couple of guys last month, Jake Bernard and Dalton Deleon?" Helga nodded and set her newspaper down.

"Yeah, I wrote em' up. Those two were trying to pull a fast one on me while my partner, Alba Middleton, was visiting the lady's room. They gave me major lip about how I had no authority over them and that they had a right to leave the building when they liked. I wrote them up and radioed it in before they could take another step out the door."

"Which door was that?" Helga crossed her arms and thought back.

"I think it was the one to the croquet fields. yeah, pretty sure it was that one." Ingrid smiled.

"Thanks for the info." Helga cracked a small smile, softening her stony face a bit.

"Anytime." Ingrid headed out to the hallways and pulled out her radio.

"Fillmore, you there?" There was a crackle over the channel.

"I'm here." Fillmore answered.

"I think I have a lead on the runner. I'm heading to the croquet fields." There was more crackling on the line before Fillmore answered, somewhat out of breath.

"Me too!" Ingrid stopped in her tracks.

"What do you mean by that?" More huffing was heard on the channel.

" I mean, I have the runner in my sites! He's headed for the croquet fields!" Ingrid broke into a run.

"Copy that! I'm calling in backup!" Ingrid ran as fast as the flip-flops on her feet could take her.

_A/N: I am in love with the sport BossaBall. It's a real sport and super cool to watch. I highly recommend you check it out. Since X-Middle School had Bocce tournaments I figured X-High would love BossaBall. Read and Review for more updates. Special thanks to artemisa twin, Queen S of Randomness 016, Seamew, Redaisy, and Dmac0424 for all the reviews and favs and follows!_

_~KungFuHime2009_


	4. How strong is too strong?

Ingrid rounded the corner of the main hallway junction and dashed out onto the croquet fields. Nobody was on the field, but the rings and balls lay strewn about the grass. Fillmore was gaining on the hooded runner halfway up the field. An equipment cart was sitting parked by the stands. Ingrid hopped in and put it into gear. There were no keys in sight, but that didn't stop her. She yanked a bobby pin from her hair and expertly bent it into a pick. The engine roared to life and the cart sped across the field. The runner looked back momentarily and spotted Ingrid gaining on him. He dug his heels into the dirt and tried to make it to the field house.

"You've got this Ingrid! Pedal to the metal!" Fillmore yelled before catching his foot on a ring and hitting the ground. Ingrid pushed the cart into overdrive and sped past the runner altogether. She then wrenched the wheel hard to the left and slammed on the brakes. The cart veered left before tipping over. Ingrid threw her hands up to brace herself against the roof and hoped the landing would be soft. She was sideways when she felt the satisfying thud of the runner slamming into the overturned cart. Ingrid picked herself up and hopped over the overturned cart to face the runner.

"Okay, nowhere to go." She pulled back the hood and was shocked to find the face of Chester Colman beneath it. "You!?" Colman slumped his back against the cart and accepted defeat. Fillmore hurried to Ingrid's side.

"Dawg. Colman is the runner?" Ingrid shook her head.

"No, he can't be. Colman was still being held for questioning in the cafeteria when the runner appeared in the hallway. It couldn't have been him.

"Because it wasn't!" Chester yelled angrily. Fillmore squatted down to Chester's level.

"Then who was it? We already know it was one of your teammates. Just tell us who." Chester clamped up.

"I ain't ratting out my guys." He crossed his arms.

"Then you'll have to come with us." Chester didn't fight arrest. Ingrid and Fillmore brought him in and sat him down in the interrogation room. Ingrid stepped out while Fillmore stayed to play the good cop. Ingrid was more of a bad cop person. She could push the evidence and consequences pretty strongly on a suspect. She never told anyone how much she enjoyed being the scary cop. It would have come off as weird.

"Ingrid! What's this about crashing an equipment cart on the croquet fields!?" Vallejo was standing in the doorway of his office.

"I didn't damage the cart. It's just sideways at the moment." Ingrid pointed out.

"Not the point Third! I just got off the phone with Principal Millar. Stuff like this has never happened in the history of his administration. He's counting on me to make sure your don't make a habit of this." Vallejo was right, of course.

"Sorry Vallejo. I just got so caught up in the chase I didn't think." Vallejo sighed and nodded.

"Don't let it happen again." He went back into his office just as Tehama walked up with two cups of cocoa.

"Funny, usually he's yelling at Fillmore about breaking stuff." Ingrid sighed and took the steaming mug of rehydrated chocolate goodness.

"I don't know what I was thinking." The door to the interrogation room opened.

"Ingrid, I need you in here." Fillmore beckoned Ingrid inside. She followed him. Chester sat in the hot seat red in the face and silent.

"I believe you remember Officer Third." Fillmore gestured to Ingrid. Ingrid glared at Chester whilst sipping her beverage. "Now, I may not be the happiest camper in the room, but Ingrid started her day off with a dip in the deep end courtesy of one of your teammates. You thought she was scary in the cafeteria this morning? You saw her road rage just now. Don't make me leave you alone with her." Chester cracked a bit on his silent treatment.

"Okay! Fine! I'll talk! But you gotta help me!" Fillmore sat down while Ingrid leaned against the wall.

"Who was the runner this morning and why was he in such a hurry to get to the croquet fields?" Chester leaned forward.

"First, you gotta promise that not a word of this leaves this room. If anyone finds out I snitched I'll be a smear on the BossaBall court!" Fillmore promised. Chester rubbed his upper arms nervously and took several deep breaths before starting.

"The guy who was running was Jake Bernard. He's the Freshman who just joined the team this year." Ingrid let out a choking noise into her mug. A freshman knocked her through the air and into the deep end of the pool? Impossible. Fillmore was equally shocked.

"How does that work out exactly? Jake's just a kid. He's younger than you."

"But much stronger! Jake and Dalton both are bigger and stronger than the rest of us on the team." Ingrid set her mug down on the table and leaned into the conversation.

"Why was Jake running?" Chester sighed and pulled out a small box, about the size of an eyeglass case form the pouch of his hoodie.

"Because he was carrying this." He placed the box on the table. Ingrid carefully lifted the lid and gasped. Inside was a hypodermic needle and a small bottle of clear liquid.

"Oh snap!" Fillmore shot out of his seat. Chester buried his face in his hands.

"They're not mine! They don't even belong to Jake! He was just getting them back to the field house so nobody would see them!" Ingrid felt the pieces beginning to fall into place, but several were still missing.

"Back to the field house? That's where he got them?" Chester was losing it now.

"That's where we all got them! Me, Jake, Dalton, Brian, and Sol! Our coach brought them in during practice one night and told us how it was gonna be. Briand, Sol, and I were against it, but Jake and Dalton were still rookies. THe coach expects a lot out of us. THey caved under the pressure."

"The coach put you up to this? Why didn't you bring this to the school board or a counselor?" Fillmore was trying hard to keep his cool.

"Because the coach said he could pin the drugs on us in a heartbeat. The best way to keep it a secret was to just do as he said." Ingrid put a hand on Chester's shoulder to calm him a bit.

"Side effects of these drugs are strong. You get angry easy and get stronger than you are meant to be." Chester looked up at Ingrid. His true self showed through. He was a scared teenage boy backed into a corner. He needed major coaxing to come back out. "Was the fight this morning because of the drugs? Was Frasier just a victim of your emotional unbalance?" Chester took several deep breaths and then nodded.

"Actually, Frasier and I were friends for a long time. He and I used to play in my backyard."

"What happened? What changed?" Fillmore was calmer now.

"He found a needle in my backpack. Frasier told me in the breakfast line. We never fought like that before, yah know? He and I got into some tiff, but never a fist fight. I punched out my best friend. My body isn't my body." His voice cracked out. "I can't believe he covered for me when you guys showed up to question us. I lied because the coach was gonna kill me otherwise, but Frasier" Ingrid nodded.

"He played along to save you the humiliation." Chester leaned back into the chair, deflated and looking somewhat older now. He was worn out, mentally and physically.

"Why don't you cool off." Fillmore and Ingrid left the room.

"Crackers." Ingrid gasped. It was all she could say. Fillmore was at a loss. The viewing room, connected to the interrogation room by the one way mirror, opened up. Tehama and Anza walked out looking equally stunned.

"Drugs in the BossaBall team field house. I'd never have believed it if it hadn't heard it myself." Tehama sighed. She patted a crestfallen Anza on the shoulder. He was obviously taking the news badly. He idolized the Bossa team and adored the sport. To have it tainted like this was just heartrending.

"We have to tell the board." Fillmore sighed. Ingrid shook her head.

"No. Unless we can bring in solid proof that the team was forced to use by the coach the board will rule in favor of whatever story the coach cooks up. We need to bring in the rest of the team. It's gonna get ugly before we can get results." The group agreed. They decided that they would round up the team and Frasier in the interrogation room and get all of their statements.

"We have to hurry. School ends in an hour." Anza pointed to his passed out walkie talkies and chose a name on the list. Anza would bring in Dalton. Tehama would get Brian. Ingrid; Jake, and Fillmore would get Sol. They told O'Farrell to bring in Fraser, since he was the one least likely to try and run off.

Ingrid set off toward the wood tech classroom, Jake's last class of the day. She tried to clear her mind. Jake outmatched her in brute strength, but in the realm of intelligence there was no competition. She would talk to him on his level and convince him that turning in the coach would be the best option. As she rounded the corner to the wood tech room she spotted a taller boy carrying the bathroom pass exiting the room. It was Jake.

"Jake Bernard?" Ingrid called up the hall. He looked up and recognized her. He looked ready to bolt. "Wait! I don't wanna hurt you!" Jake was confused but obviously on a short fuse.

"Then what do you want from me?" Jake leaned against the wall and Ingrid cautiously approached.

"I'm Officer Third. We kinda met this morning." Jake shrugged.

"If you want an apology or something then I'm sorry I pushed you." His voice was cracking all over the place. He was well defined in the physical way but his voice was soft.

"I'm not asking for an apology. Chester told us everything about the coach and the performance enhancers." Jake's eyebrows shot up. He began to sweat profusely.

"I-uh-I mean! Uh-" Jake stammered for something to say.

"It's okay. The team is being gathered at the patrol headquarters now. We can help you guys. All we need is your full cooperation and statement." She let this set in. Jake was mulling over his options in his head. He wanted to tell the truth, but he was afraid of something. Something bigger and scarier than him.

"The coach can't touch you if you come with us. I promise you that." Ingrid gently out a hand on Jake's shoulder. He was shaking slightly.

"Okay." Jake cracked. Ingrid smiled at him warmly.

"Please come with me." They walked down the hallway together.

_A/N: This chapter took way too long! Curse you double math quiz! UGH! My brain hurts from all this thinking! What I wouldn't give for a photographic memory now! Reviews make me very happy and I'm so glad you guys keep writing them! I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Don't worry. I'm gonna be writing this one for a while! The BossaBall plot is only the beginning! Prepare for major doses of drama along with the next crime spree at X-High!_

_~KungFuHime2009_


	5. Where Ends Meet

By the end of the week the head coach of the BossaBall team was sacked. The testimonies of the entire team were more than enough to convince the school board of their story. A new coach was brought in to replace the old one after the entire team showed interest in continuing to play the sport for the school. Mandatory drug tests were instated effective immediately by the student council. Ingrid was able to finish her concluding report in time for the pep rally on Friday.

"It is with great pride I present this medal to Cornelius Fillmore for his bravery and loyalty to this administration." Student Council President, Ward Greer, pinned the medal on Fillmore's dress shirt. There was a pause as he and the president shook hands. It was followed closely by cheering and applause. Ingrid smirked slightly as she watched from the back of the auditorium. Fillmore's parents were un the front row of seats with his Grandma snapping photos. The entire Safety Patrol was present for the occasion, on duty and off. Ingrid and O'Farrell were working the event while Vallejo, Tehama, and Anza joined in the revelry.

"THis is the coolest thing ever!" O'Farrell took out his cellphone and began snapping photo after photo of the crowd and whatever else wandered into his frame.

"Careful there. We're still on duty for another half hour." Ingrid chuckled. Trust O'Farrell to get over excited about an award ceremony. O'Farrell gave her a sideways look.

"Oh please! I need to capture this moment noW! You and I both know we'll never see him in a tie again!" Ingrid relented. O'Farrell was right. Fillmore was looking sharp. The pep assembly ended with a small speech from Principal Millar and the students began to flood the aisle to enjoy the weekend. Fillmore hopped off the stage and was embraced by his family. He waved in her direction and Ingrid waved back. She soon found, however, that he was waving to a tall girl with ebony skin and a multitude of intricate braids.

"Hey, O'Farrell. Who's that?" Ingrid pointed the girl out as she wrapped her arms around Fillmore's neck.

"That's Diann. She's a cheerleader for the Varsity Squad." Ingrid searched her photographic memory. Diann Stevens was the head cheerleader of the Varsity Squad and voted the most flexible girl in the sophomore class in last month's issue of the school news. How had she and Fillmore met? Ingrid felt someone bump her shoulder. A muttered apology followed, but Ingrid wasn't paying much attention. SHe just nodded, lost in thought.

It was 2:45 now. She was allowed to leave the auditorium now, since the crowds were reduced to a meer trickle. Normally she would stay until the last of the students had exited the area, but she felt the strong feeling she needed to go.

"Hey! Aren't you gonna congratulate your partner?" O'Farrel frowned as Ingrid tried to make her getaway. Ingrid blushed from embarrassment. Embarrassment? Why was she embarrassed?

"Uh, sure." Ingrid walked with O'Farrell toward Fillmore and his family. As they approached their voices began to ring in Ingrid's ears.

"We're so proud of you honey!" Fillmore's mom smiled.

"You done good son." His father gave him a whack on the back. Diann laughed a musical tone.

"I'm just glad you're okay. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt!" She nuzzled Fillmore's neck and Ingrid felt extremely uncomfortable.

"Hey Fillmore!" O'Farrell piped up.

"Hey man." Fillmore smiled. He beckoned them forward.

"Nice medal." Ingrid smiled shyly. What was wrong with her? She felt like she was shrinking.

"Thanks." Fillmore smiled to his partner. He had his arm wrapped around Diann's waist. They were obviously quite friendly.

"I don't believe we've met." O'Farrell smiled and held out his hand to Diann.

"I'm Diann, Fillmore's girlfriend." Ingrid's mind fell out of her head. GIRLFRIEND?!

"You have a girlfriend?!" Ingrid blurted out. She instantly regretted drawing so much attention to herself. All eyes were on her now.

"Yeah. Diann and I hooked up just after I got done with the Fake ID case." Fillmore explained.

"Oh. I was just _really_ surprised." Ingrid put emphasis on the "really" to cover up her embarrassment.

"You didn't tell her?" Diann gave Fillmore a sad look. "She's your partner Corni!" _Corni_? Okay, now this was getting weird.

"Sorry to run, but I gotta log some info about the BossaBall team before heading home. Fillmore looked disappointed.

"We were all going out to celebrate. You sure you don't want to join us Ingrid? It'd be like old times." Ingrid shook her head.

"Sorry, duty calls. Besides, dad is cooking dinner tonight and I need to help out." Ingrid waved good-bye and hurried to HQ. She didn't look back. Her ears were burning with embarrassment and she felt nauseous. What was wrong with this picture? Fillmore got a girlfriend? Why should this bother her so much? She didn't like Fillmore that way. She enjoyed his company and friendship, yes. Was she interested in anything more? Heck no! She was alone in the Safety Patrol office, perfect. She logged out of her computer and hung up her sash before grabbing her stuff out of the locker she used in the back room and hurried out into the swirl of autumn leaves.

As the school disappeared behind her she felt better. Distance was definitely the cure to her ailment. She stuck her hands into her jacket pockets as the fall wind began to blow. It was getting colder all the time as November began to draw to a close. She felt a smooth piece of paper in her pocket. She pulled out a familiar piece of cream-colored linen paper.

"Vermeer." Ingrid sighed as a ghost of a smile danced on her lips. She unfolded the sheet of paper and gasped. Every inch of the page was covered with small sketches. There was one of Ingrid in profile. There were a couple of her just head and shoulders. The one that caught her attention, though, was not of her. It was of O'Farrell reading a text on his phone. The clothes in the sketches matched what they were wearing that very afternoon! Ingrid stopped walking. She checked her phone for the time. It was now 3:01. She hurried off toward X-Middle School.

Ingrid walked into the art room with purpose. She smiled when she saw her old friend had not yet left the building for the weekend. Randall "The Vandal" Julian was standing on a scaffolding with a bottle of white glue. He reached into the pouch of his art smock and pulled out a handful of elbow style macaroni noodles. He expertly placed said noodles onto his work-in-progress. The work appeared to be a scale model of King Kong a top the Chrysler Building, all in macaroni.

"Hello Julian." Ingrid smiled. Randall looked down from his perch and gave her his strange smile.

"Hello Officer Third. You're looking well." He continued his work as Ingrid began to explore his studio. A month after Fillmore had talked him out of tagging the bathroom in the teacher's lounge, Randall Julian had pulled a 180 on his attitude the end of the year he was allowed art supplies with supervision. He began experimenting with all forms of noodle art. Dried or cooked pasta was a new obsession, but nothing beat his love for the original elbow style noodles. Ingrid took a liking to a collage of spiral macaroni on a canvas.

"Don't touch that. It's not finished." Julian put down his bottle of glue. Ingrid shrugged.

"It's nice. I like the composition of the piece." Julian nodded.

"When it's finished it will illustrate the meaning of solitude from the perspective of the last box of pasta on the shelf." Ingrid never knew how deep someone could get with just boxed protein.

"Amazing." Ingrid smiled.

"I get the feeling that you're not here to make a social call." Julian climbed down from the scaffolding. He'd gotten taller in the last few years. Ingrid was just glad she was still taller by a couple of inches.

"Remember when you profiled "Stainless" just by looking at his tags?" Julian nodded.

"Of course."

"Think you can tell me about this guy?" Ingrid took out the linen paper from her pocket and handed it to Julian. he hurried to a work table and brushed off some stray piece of noodle as he laid the paper flat. He examined the sketches closely. and nodded.

"Magnificent."

"What is?" Ingrid drew closer to Julian as he flipped the paper over and felt its weight and texture.

"The artist who drew this is self-taught."

"So, he grabbed a how to draw book? That narrows things down a bit." Julian shook his head as he continued his examination.

"No. People who learn to draw from instructional books learn how to draw like the artist who wrote the book. Self taught artists are the ones who developed a natural sense of drawing and creating. We develope our own style and creation process. We learn by doing and correct our mistakes base on skill and comfort." He pointed to some smudging on the sketch. "This smudging indicated a right-handed artist who uses a mechanical pencil." Ingrid looked down at the sketch and notices the miniscule smudging around the edges of the pencil marks.

"Mechanical?" Julian nodded.

"The fine point on the lead is consistent throughout the page. It never got dull enough to expand in size, as regular pencils do. Your artist started out as a margin doodler and worked his way up to the quality art supplies. Such skill takes years to develope." Julian handed the paper back to her. "Secret admirer?"

"Why does everyone keep assuming that?" She folded the paper up carefully and returned it to her pocket.

"You seem to be the main focus of his work."

"Why are you so sure it's a he?" Ingrid raised an eyebrow.

"You seemed pretty sure of his gender. Also, the reoccurrence of a muse in ones work gives them away." Ingrid thanked Julian and left the room. As she neared the main exit she spied a familiar door. She tried the knob but found it locked. Like that had ever stopped her before. She pulled out her school ID from her bag and jammed it in between the frame and the door. The hinges creaked and she was in. Several desks and computer monitors sat vacantly in the dark room. Ingrid walked to the back and sat down in a familiar chair. Her chair. She'd worked at this station her entire stay at X-Middle School. She slid under the desk and felt for the chunk of purple gum she'd hidden there for no particular reason. She found it right where she'd left it. She smiled, got up to leave, and was met with something new. A framed photograph on the wall by the door. She examined it in the fading light. It was the yearbook photo of the entire Safety Patrol. Ingrid stood toward the front with Fillmore. They were holding their fists together as they used to do back then. Ingrid frowned and left the building.

"Ingrid seems nice." Diann smiled to Fillmore. They were in the backseat of his dad's car, with grandma.

"Too bad she couldn't come with us." His dad said from the driver's seat. Fillmore noticed how weird Ingrid had acted that afternoon. She must have really needed to get going. She practically broke the land speed record on her way out of the auditorium.

"Tell me more about her." Diann said as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Her braids tickled his skin slightly.

"I met her in middle school. She confessed to a crime she didn't commit and I convinced her to help me clear her name."

"I know that already silly. Tell me more about her than just the dynamic duo thing."

"Her dad works at the University as a professor. She's also got a sister named Ariella. She's a photography major at the university, last I checked. It's funny, I've never met her mom." Fillmore's eyebrows knitted together.

"Ever? But you guys have been friends for years now." Diann looked up at him.

"I think her parents are separated. Her mom just visits."

"That's sad." His mom was looking back from the passenger side seat. Fillmore blushed slightly. His mom smiled at him in that "mom-like way". Diann sat up and shrugged.

"Mom, you already know Ingrid." Fillmore piped up, embarrassed his quiet moment with Diann had been crashed.

"I know, it's just sweet that you two know each other so well." Fillmore sighed.

"We're here. Ready for the best seafood in town?" Saved by crustaceans. Fillmore adjusted his glasses.

"I'm game!"

_A/N: Dialogue heavy chapter with a special guest! My all time favorite episode is the one which is the parody of SIlence of the Lambs. Randall Julian is a lot of fun to write and I think, with the Vermeer ongoing plot on the table, he'll be showing up a lot. Ingrid meets Fillmore's girlfriend (pronounced DEE-ON). I don't want her to come off as a stereotypical cheerleader like in the old episodes, especially since I was once a cheerleader too and I'm not like that either. Reviews make my day! Please continue to put them up!_

_~KungFuHime2009_


	6. Fair is foul, and foul is fair

**A/N: Skipping ahead a week**

Mondays are always slow starts to the week. Two days of rest and ignoring homework makes the sound of the first bell extremely unpleasant. Franklyn Logan hurried to the back stage area of the school's theater department. He was running late thanks to his family's car engine failing. Walking the last four blocks had not been ideal, but it was too late to secure a ride with a friend.

"You're late!" Mr. Good called from the prop room.

"I know! Sorry!" Franklyn dropped his bags in the comunal dressing room and fished out his script. The cover was beige and read _Shakespeare's Classics_. He'd dogeared the plays he was in the week before. He would be playing two leads in the school's upcoming Shakespeare Festival.

"Setting up for Hamlet Act 2! Main cast to the stage!" Mr. Good called yelled through a megaphone. Franklyn joined the other members of the cast as Mr. Good lead them in vocal and physical warm ups. A loud snap was audible as Franklyn bent over to touch his toes.

"What's that noise?" Glenna, Ophelia, asked. There was no time to surmise. A large sandbag fell onto the stage a foot away from her. She screamed and everyone cleared the stage.

"It's not the first thing that's gone wrong around here Officer. That's just the scariest one that's happened so far." Fillmore nodded as Franklyn finished explaining the incident. For weeks now, the drama club had been plagued with unexplained accidents while in preparation for the Shakespeare Festival. Two members of the main cast had quit due to the unsafe working conditions. Losing one more was unthinkable, as they had no more understudies to fill the roles.

"I'll bring this to the attention of the Safety Patrol. We'll get back to you and the club when I have news." Fillmore shook Franklyn's hand and left the theater. He pulled out his walkie talkie.

"Ingrid. You there?" The radio crackled.

"Yeah, I'm here." Ingrid answered.

"Tell Vallejo we're got an incident with the drama club. It's gonna require back up."

"I'll get on that." Ingrid left her desk and hurried to Vallejo's office.

"Fillmore needs some backup on the drama club thing." Vallejo was sitting at his desk with a fly fishing magazine and a cup of rapidly cooling hot cocoa.

"Tell him to get back here and we'll hash out the details together." Ingrid nodded adn radioed the message to her partner. She then returned to her desk without another word. She wasn't really in any mood to talk to anyone today. She'd had a rotten weekend after the award ceremony. Besides the extra sleep she'd gotten she had decided to bury herself in research on the painter Vermeer. Perhaps understanding the artist better would help her in her quest to discover the identity of her admirer.

"Got a present for yah." Ingrid looked up from her laptop screen and half smiled at Tehama.

"What's that?" Ingrid asked. Tehama pulled two tickets from her pants pocket.

"Tickets to the next BossaBall match. Anza got four of them. You could bring your sister or Fillmore with you." Ingrid accepted the tickets as a kind gesture to Tehama. She wasn't very interested in going to the game though. She wasn't very into watching sports. She also didn't want to go to a game with Fillmore. Something about that idea was just offputing to her. True, she'd have asked him back in middle school, but now that he had a girlfriend she didn't want things to be weird.

"I'll think about it." Ingrid said before returning to her work. Tehama shrugged and left. Fillmore entered the open door a few seconds later.

"Tehama, Ingrid, O'Farrell, need you on this!" All three hurried to the door.

"What's up?" O'Farrell was polishing the lense of his camera.

"Drama club has been having a series of unexplained accidents. If things continue to go bad the school will cancel the Shakespeare Festival and we can't let that happen." Ingrid nodded. The Shakespeare Festival was a tradition at the high school. The proceeds went to a local charity. Her sister had brought her to see a production of Hamlet the year before she graduated.

"What kind of accidents are we talking about?" Ingrid inquired.

"Well, for starters, a sandbag almost hit Ophelia during morning rehearsals."

"Ouch!" Tehama shook her head. Her long black and pink ponytails swayed. She'd just added fresh pink streaks the night before. Ingrid could smell the lingering product in the air around her friend.

"Grab an extra hand for the forensics team and meet me in the auditorium." Fillmore ordered Tehama. She nodded and went to grab Reyes Abbott from his desk. Fillmore began leading the team out.

"I've just got to grab something. I'm meet you there." Ingrid said as the team left. Fillmore nodded and was gone. Ingrid walked over to her mailbox on the wall. She slid her hand into the slot and was sadly met with nothing. No new letters from Vermeer. It had been quite some time since she'd recieved a message on that familiar linen paper. Had her mysterious sender given up? Was it only a fleeting crush from some shy student? Perhaps she'd been had and this was all just some strange joke a kid pulled on all the weird girls in the school. Ingrid sighed and returned to her desk to grab her badge.

"Ingrid! Hurry up!" Tehama and Reyes stood at the door waiting. Ingrid joined them and they were soon off. Reyes Abbott was a sophomore with a knack for finding fiber evidence, no matter how obscure. Though sercomstantial, this evidence could mean the difference between a criminal and an innocent man.

"What's up between you and Fillmore?" Tehama asked as they walked.

"Huh?" Ingrid raised and eyebrow. Why was everyone so interested in her life lately?

"You both seem a little _cold_." Tehama said.

"I don't know what you mean." Ingrid countered and walked a little faster.

"She's got a point." Reyes said as he adjusted his brown frame glasses. He was the picture of a nerd if ever there was one in a sweater vest, dress shirt, and pants at all times. "You both have ceased your constant banter in the work room and don;t leave at the same time anymore." Tehama and Ingrid stared at Reyes oddly.

"You keep tabs on everyone like that?" Ingrid asked dubiously. Reyes shrudded and went red in the face.

"A good investigator observes everything and everyone around him. I'm just doing my job." Tehama shook rolled here eyes.

"Reyes, you need to get out more." The group entered the auditorium. In only a week the whole space had been set upon by the decorating committee. Long banners and colorful tapestries were hung from the walls and balcony railings to make it feel more like an Elizabethean theater. The set on stage at the moment was an unpainted stone castle. Yellow tape roped off the stage area entierly. Mr. Good stood arguing with Fillmore about the importance of rehearsel time on the main stage.

"Reyes, check out the sandbag for fibers. Tehama, pick up anything that may be of use. O'Farrell, I want you to take photos of the entire stage and backstage area. We need to know the whole layout. Ingrid, check out the rigging. See where the bag fell from." Fillmore gave the orders beofre returning to his chat with the drama teacher. Ingrid hurried to the backstage and spotted long cables attatched to levers along the side wall. She apporached adn saw they were all labled.

"If you're looking for the sandbag rigging, you've got the wrong area." A voice chirped up. Ingrid turned and was met with a friendly face. A boy with a messy mop of coffee colored hair. His lean build was made apparent by his form fitting blue striped shirt and baggy brown pants. He was a lick taller than Ingrid and stood with a mind hunch of the shoulders, in a perpetual shrug.

"Pardon?" Ingrid was fingering the cables.

"Those are the set rigging and lighting cables." The boy pointed to the masking tape lables on the levers. "The sandbag counterweights are up there." He pointed toward the high up catwalk, where many sandbags were visible. Ingrid looked back at the boy.

"Thanks. How did you get past the tape?" Ingrid cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm a witness." He stuck out his hand. "Franklyn Logan. Actor." Ingrid shook it and saw that his skin was a pale creamy pallor.

"Ingrid Third. Safety Patrol. Mind helping me get up there?" Ingrid pointed toward the catwalk. Franklyn nodded and motioned for her to follow him.

"So, what exactly happened this morning?" Ingrid asked as they made their way toward a spiral staircase on the side of the stage, hidden from audience view by a pillar-like fisade.

"I was running late when I got in. We were begining with scene two of the second act. The whole cast was assembled for warm ups when this sandbag just fell from the rigging. Darn thing nearly hit Glenna." They arrived at the top of the steps and Franklyn grabbed a flashlight from a hook on the wall. He handed it to Ingrid.

"You up here much?" Ingrid asked.

"On occasion. I used to work with the lighting crew before I decided to become a performer." Franklyn shrugged. Ingrid smiled.

"Thanks for the help." She stepped out onto the metal catwalk. The structure was very secure so there was no fear of falling. Ingrid bagan scanning the rigging for anything that looked wrong. A flash of red entered her vision. Caught on a splitting weld on the railing was a scrap of red fabric. She saw a hanging cable near that spot. Shining the light confirmed her suspisions. The cable was straight cut at the end.

"Crackers."

"Okay people, what do we have to report?" Vallejo stood at the front of the breifing room. Fillmore stood up.

"The drama club reported as many as seven accidents while preparing for the festival. The sandbag is the latest." He listed the incidents in order on the white board.

Missing script for Faye Cain; (Gertrude)

Lost makeup kit; Ginger D. Delaney (Titana and Lady Macbeth)

Missing costume for Puck; Keven Peters (Left the club)

Supplies to paint the set vandilized (Hamlet set)

Lighting moved out of placement for a whole week (Midsummer Nights Dream)

Missing backpack belonging to Jarod K. Webster (Hamlet) Actor left club

Sabotaged sandbag almost hits Glenna Dyer (Ophelia)

Tehama stood up.

"Red fibers were found on the sandbag. A scrap of red cloth was found in the rigging area. We're currently checking to see if they match."

"Keep working. If they do then our sabatour is missing a piece of his shirt or pants. Anything else?" Nobody stood so the briefing was dismissed. Ingrid hurried back to her station to review the photos of the crime scene that O'Farrell had taken. As she sat down she spotted a piece of paper in her mailbox. She snatched it up and was delighted to see it was addressed to her in a now familiar scrawl. Back at her desk she hid the note in her lap and popped the red wax seal. She unfolded the page and found a long letter in code. A pencil sketch of swirling waves and tiny fish created a border around the page. The code was a new one to her.

"Another message?" Ingrid jumped. FIllmore was standing on the other side of her desk. She quickly slid the note into her desk drawer.

"Need something?" Ingrid asked, making zero eye contact.

"Can we talk?" Fillmore straightened his round rims. Ingrid pulled up another cahir next to her.

"What about?" FIllmore sat down next to her.

"Us. You've been really distant this last week. Since Diann introduced herself." Ingrid inwardly cursed Fillmore's sharp mind. There was no hiding her discomfort from him.

"I've just been really busy." Ingrid brushed the conversation away like crumbs on a table.

"She's not that bad Ingrid. Diann's not like those other girls on the cheerleading squad. She's real smart and down to earth. If you got to know her you'd understand." Fillmore leaned his elbows on his knees. He was looking at her, trying to read her face. Ingrid sat quiet, deciding what to say.

"It's not that I don't like her." Ingrid began. "I think she's nice."

"What's wrong then?" Fillmore gapped.

"I don't know. Maybe the fact that you didn't tell me about her?" Ingrid sighed.

"Ingrid. It happened kinda fast. There wasn't really time to tell you. I'm sorry about that though." Fillmore put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged form his touch. It was awkward enough without him putting his hand on her.

"Restroom." Ingrid said. She grabbed a hall pass from her drawer and discreatly grabbed the Vermeer note with it. She hurried out of the room. Fillmore leaned back into the plastic chair and stared up at the ceiling. What was wrong with his partner?

Locked up in a stall, alone, Ingrid took the code. The entire letter was a long grid of single written letters. There was no common theme on first glance.

DYOUALOCATIONWHENTHETIMEISRI GHTALLMYLOVEVERMEER

GARDINGACASEYOUAREWORKINGONI CANHELPYOUBUTNOTYOURP

ARTNERFILLMORESSUDDENCELEBRI TYISHAZARDOUSTOMEIWILLSEN

INGRIDITSTIMEWEMETIHAVEIMPOR TANTINFORMATIONFORYOURE

She soon identified the problem. The lines were out of secuence and were spaced in between the letters. There was also no punctuation. The message read as follows:

_Ingrid. It's time we met. I have important information for you regarding a case you are working on. I can help you but not your partner. Fillmore's sudden celebrity is a hazard to me. I will send you a location when the time is right._

_All my love,_

_Vermeer_

A/N: Sorry for the delay! My grandma is unwell and I've been helping my parents take care of her. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I'm sorry again for the neglect! R&R, feel free to scold my tardiness!

~KungFuHime2009


	7. Tell the Truth, But Tell It Slant

"That could have gone better." Tehama walked over and sat a cup of steaming hot cocoa on Ingrid's desk. Fillmore was still sitting in the plastic chair. Ingrid had left rather abruptly and not in the most discreet way.

"You got that?" Fillmore asked, though it was more rhetorical than anything else.

"Who didn't? You two really need to get your problems sorted out, otherwise it's gonna blow up in a bad way." Tehama walked back to her desk. Fillmore sighed and took the mug of chocolate.

"Hungry?" He looked up to see Diann holding an X-High tote bag. He smiled, in spite of his mood.

"Starved." He suddenly remembered he was still at Ingrid's desk and ushered Diann over to his space.

"I brought some tacos and a couple of Redbulls for you. I hear Officer Fillmore is on another case." She unpacked her goodies on his desk.

"Word really travels fast here." Diann sat down next to him and unwrapped one of the tacos.

"You don't know the half of it. So, tell me about the case."

"Kinda can't. It's still in progress, so we aren't allowed to discuss it with other students." At that moment, Ingrid reentered the Patrol room. She was holding the hall pass, but it was wrapped around another piece of paper. He knew in his gut that it was another one of her admirer letters.

"Hey, Diann. Do the cheerleaders say anything about Ingrid?" She looked up to see Ingrid talking to Reyes at his station.

"They say things. Why do you ask?" She put down her food and scooted a bit closer to him, making their conversation a bit more private.

"Ingrid's been getting notes from an admirer. I'm not sure if it's a crush or someone out to hurt her. I just wanna make sure she's okay." Diann nodded.

"I'll ask around." Fillmore took her hand in both of his.

"Keep the circle small. _Real small. _I don't wanna tick Ingrid off more than I already have today." Diann crinkled her brow but knew not to ask. He'd tell her when it wasn't so easy to be over heard. They moved on to eating their lunch and chatting about regular things.

"Reyes, I need you." Ingrid walked up to the lab tech. He didn't look up from his work on the microscope.

"What for? I'm very busy." Ingrid put on her game face and crossed her arms.

"You said you observe everyone in the room at all times, right?" Reyes turned his eyes up from the microscope lens.

"Affirmative."

"When was the mail delivered to my mail box today, and by whom?" Reyes stood up and pulled a small notebook from his lab pocket. He flipped through several of the palm sized pages and stopped on one.

"Your mail was delivered by our regular messenger, Bruno Rosario, at 11:05 a.m." He snapped the notebook shut and gave Ingrid a smug grin. She only cocked an eyebrow.

"Thanks." She hurried out of the room again and toward the mail room.

X-High school sorts all its incoming and outgoing mail in a large room at the back of the office. By presenting her badge at the main desk, Ingrid bypassed the need to make an appointment to see the mail clerk. She was buzzed into the room at once. At the door stood an upperclassman in a junior postmaster uniform.

"Shelton Lynch, Head Mail Clerk. What seems to be the problem?" Behind Shelton was an assembly line set up of a dozen boys and girls sorting letters and packages with astonishing efficiency. Ingrid held up the note.

"I need to know when this arrived in the mail room and was sorted. Whoever delivered it is of great importance to me and I need to find him." Shelton only took the envelope and nodded.

"I remember this one. The wax seal caused quite a stir among the sorters."

"How so?" Ingrid asked.

"Not every day you get to sort, let alone deliver, such a fine example of a letter. Beautiful attention to detail in this puppy." He handed back the envelope and walked over to the sorting tables. There were several clipboards documenting the box loads of letters which were sorted. After tracing back to the right page the mail clerk nodded.

"Yup, as I thought. This was in the first box of letters we sorted this morning. The box was all the letters from yesterday's overflow. It was delivered to the mail room by the postal service yesterday morning."

"Are you sure?" Ingrid was confused.

"Officer, we run a very tight ship in here. If the clipboard says yesterday, then it was yesterday." Ingrid nodded and thanked him for his time before leaving. Her mind was running a mile a minute.

"Officer Third. Fancy meeting you here." Ingrid looked up and couldn't help but ball up her fists. Standing beside the main office desk was someone she'd hoped she'd never cross paths with again. His slicked back platinum blond hair and smooth facial expression made a deep-seated rage well up inside of her.

"Parnassus." She uttered the name without hiding the venom on her lips.

"Been a long time." He continued to wear his condescending smile.

"Not long enough." She made for the exit.

"Manners Ms. Third. Wouldn't want to make others think you're rude." She stomped off and fought the urge to flip him off. She felt the letter in her fist and let her fingers relax. The linen paper was crushed in her palm and some of the red wax from the envelope had crumbled. She brushed the particles away and hurried back to the Patrol room. Diann was just leaving the room when she came up the hallway.

"Hey Ingrid!" Diann waved with her tote bag hanging from her arm. Ingrid sighed loudly. Today was not her day.

"Hi." She said flatly to Diann before hurrying to her desk. She knew it was mean to brush her off, but she really couldn't deal with all of this now. She sat down in her chair and carefully placed the letter and envelope in her drawer. She then leaned back and stared up at the ceiling, running through the meditation routines her mom had taught her as a kid. She breathed deeply and cleared her mind as if it were a dusty table. Just clean it off with a rag and start with only one thought.

_The letter was sent yesterday._

_It says that Vermeer has information about a case I'm working on._

_Yesterday was Sunday._

_I wasn't on a case until today._

_It doesn't add up._

"We have a break in the drama club's case." Vallejo stood in the center of the Patrol room. All eyes were on him.

"I just got a call from one of the janitorial staff and they recovered the missing costume. They are allowing us 24 hours to collect what evidence we can from it before it is cleaned for the show." Vallejo held up a brown paper bag with a pair of latex gloves. He handed it off to Tehama.

"Where was it found?" Ingrid asked.

"Janitor found it while emptying one of the garbage cans backstage. Said it was at the bottom of the can, but outside of the garbage bag."

"Do we have security cameras backstage?" Anza piped up.

"Yes. Good thinking. Call up the security office and request the tapes for that hallway from the last three weeks." Anza got on the phone line.

"I'd like to call back a witness for a follow-up interview." Ingrid requested.

"Sure thing. Let's move people! The clock is ticking." Vallejo walked back to his office and shut the door to make some calls to Principal Miller. In all the time that they had been at the school, Principal Miller had not made any personal visits to the Patrol room. He was a man who loved the safety of his desk and didn't come out for most anything. Ingrid was glad for thins. Principal Fulsom had been a pain to deal with back at X-Middle.

"Who are you bringing in?" Fillmore hovered close to Ingrid's desk, but just out of arms reach from her. The gulf between them at the moment was chilling.

"Franklyn Logan. He seems to know his way around the stage and he was willing to talk about all the incidents." Fillmore nodded.

"I'll bring him in." He paused and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "You want me to stay out of this interview?" Ingrid shrugged but didn't know what to say.

"It's not like it's an interrogation." Fillmore nodded and turned to go. "He was your witness though!" Ingrid let out. Fillmore stopped, half turned, and nodded.

"Okay. I'll be back in a sec." Fillmore left and returned rather quickly. Franklyn Logan was shown into the main interview room. Ingrid joined them and shut the door. She sat down across from him and folded her hands neatly.

"I would like to ask you some questions about the costume that was stolen." Franklyn nodded and looked back at Ingrid with complete honesty in his eyes.

"The cast was gathered to be fitted by the seamstress for Midsummer's Night's Dream. The costumes were being altered since we'd voted to recycle old costumes from last year to save the school some money. Puck, Keven, was the one that needed the most alterations. The thing was too small for him, so the seamstress had him stand there for ages, sticking pins in him and the fabric to plan the changes. He was really tiffed about that. Anyways, a week later, we went in for final fittings and all the costumes were hung up on the rack in the dressing room hall, except for Puck. Keven was furious. He quit when they couldn't find the costume. Went complete prima donna and left." Fillmore, who was standing by the door, looked up.

"That sort of thing happen with Keven a lot?" Franklyn nodded.

"Yeah. He was a bit of a loud mouth, so it wasn't much of a loss. We had an understudy for the role." Ingrid sat up straighter.

"Now that the costume has been recovered, do you think Keven will come back?" Franklyn shook his head.

"Even if he tried, the director would never allow it. Quitters receive a black mark with the club. Makes it extremely hard to get parts because it makes you look unreliable."

"Could the understudy have stolen the costume to make Keven leave the group?" Fillmore asked.

"Naw. The understudy was Faye. She's harmless as a hamster. Truth be told, Keven was gonna leave us for a community theater group after the festival anyways. Said we weren't professional enough for him." Ingrid nodded.

"Is there anything else you'd like to state about the costume incident?" Franklyn gave this a thought before shaking his head again. His coffee-colored hair shifted back and forth.

"Not at the moment." Fillmore opened the door.

"Then you can go." Franklyn stood and held out his hand to Ingrid. She stood and shook it.

"Nice seeing you again Officers." Ingrid felt the sweat on Franklyn's palms. For such a calm guy, his hands were soaking with sweat. He walked out, leaving Ingrid behind. She wiped her hands on her skirt.

"Crackers." Fillmore cocked an eyebrow.

"What?"

"He's hiding something."

"Should we bring him back?"

"No. We can't question without just cause." Fillmore headed for the door.

"But, we can have a patroller keep an eye on him." He hurried off. Ingrid followed close behind. Anza was chatting with O'Farrell by the hot water dispenser.

"You two, got an assignment for yah." Fillmore beckoned them closer.

"Shoot." Anza was all ears. O'Farrell tossed his empty cup in the trash and joined them. His trusty camera was around his neck, begging to be used.

"We need you to do some recon on one of the actors in the festival. His name is Franklyn Logan. Ingrid says he was withholding info during the interview."

"The cad!" O'Farrell took the cap off of his lens and hurried for the hallway. "We're on it!" Anza shook his head and laughed.

"Take it down a few notches O'Farrell! We're on recon, not the beat!" Fillmore gave Anza a friendly pat on the back before letting him go.

"Nice catch there." Fillmore turned to Ingrid. She nodded.

"Thanks."

A/N: So sorry this took so long! I had the chapter finished but I needed to review it and then all this stuff kept falling into my lap. ARGH! How I wish It could be summer so I could just get up early and write like I used to!

Anyhow, things are getting interesting with the introduction of some new and familiar faces. Rest assured, Parnassus is up to something. He was the Moriarty to Fillmore and Ingrid's Sherlock and Watson that I wish the show had brought in fulltime. Alas, I am left to figure out where such a criminal career could have gone. R&R! REALLY! IT MOTIVATES ME TO WRITE!

~KungFuHime


	8. Light Lives in Darkness

Ingrid sat in silence as she traced the edge of the linen paper wither finger. She was sitting in her room now, several hours had passed since the events of the day. Tehama had pulled everything she could off of the costume. Her team had enough fibers to keep them busy for days. The costume would be released to the drama club's pickup rep tomorrow, but they had very little else to go on now. Anza and O'Farrell sat on watch over Franklyn for the rest of the school day and club practice hours with nothing to report. They were told to keep an eye on him by Fillmore.

"Fillmore." Ingrid sighed and leaned her back against the headboard. Her legs were stretched out before her on the bed, shoes kicked off in the corner and socks rumpled on the floor. She replayed their chilly encounters of the day in her mind. Why was she so pissed off with him? He had a girlfriend. She was nice. She even made a conscious effort to be nice to Ingrid. So why did she try to bite her head off whenever she was in the room? The edge of the linen paper tore slightly. Ingrid placed the note on her nightstand and ran her hands down her face, slightly smearing her eyeliner. Perfect.

"Ingrid. How was your day?" Ariella was standing in the open doorway dressed in a pink Chinese top and green cargos. Her combat boots were shined up but had leaves sticking to them.

"Good. All good." Ingrid replied. Ariella cocked her eyebrow in that way that Ingrid was famous for. Few people knew it was her sister who had taught her how. In fact, few people knew she had a sister.

"If everything's so good, then why are you upset?" Ariella was even sharper at observation that Ingrid.

"Eyeliner?" Ingrid did the eyebrow arch from her bed. Ariella nodded.

"You can tell everything about a girl by the state and taste of her makeup." She winked at Ingrid before crossing to the bed and sitting on the end.

"Is it Fillmore?" Ariella asked. She eyed the note on the nightstand but didn't read it. She was observant but by no means a snoop.

"He's got a girlfriend. I don't know why I'm so upset. She's a nice person and he really likes her. I'm not jealous or anything, it's just weird." The contents of her brain tumbled out of her mouth and her big sister drank them up. With her most thoughtful look she took Ingrid's hand in her own and gave it a squeeze.

"Remember when mom died?" Ingrid nodded. They mother had died a long time ago while they were traveling with their father. Her mother was everything to Ingrid and Ariella. She was smart, funny, and whimsical. She used to get the girls up early in the morning to watch the sun rise so she could water-color paint the rays over the tree line. She was by no means an artist, but she said the water colors had a liberating effect on her which ensured that the day would be brighter than the one before. She had long dark hair and the green eyes possessed by both her daughters. Ingrid felt the lump in her throat she'd never been able to shake swell up.

"Yeah. I remember." Ingrid had cried for days after the funeral and developed a myriad of depressive habits over a six month period. She'd often lock herself in the bathroom and take showers with her clothes on and draw the unit circle on her bedroom wall. Over and over again she would do these things without knowing why and she sometimes forgot she had done it an hour later.

"You came into my room one day soaking wet and asked me if you were crazy. I told you that you weren't. I said that you missed mom and that you couldn't process the idea of life without her." Ingrid felt the tears roll down her cheeks and nodded. Where was this going?

"Yeah, so?" Ingrid's voice was deepened by the lump in her throat.

"You don't like change Ingrid. You are the type of person who likes things to be orderly. You like to process things and work them out like puzzles or directions on a box. When something new happens, good or bad, to you and you can't process it you do impulsive things. You've always been that way." Ingrid felt tiny on the bed. Like she was ten years old again and standing in the shower with her shoes on. The water cold and jarring on her skin.

"So, I can't handle change?" Ingrid mused. Ariella nodded.

"You are a tough cookie Ingrid. But you're not bullet proof." The chink in her armor was suddenly not a singular item. It was a newly illuminate network of cracks and holes. She felt exposed and raw underneath it all.

"What do I do?" Ingrid asked after a long silence. Ariella stared at a faded unit circle on the wall above the headboard, which had been erased years ago but not completely.

"When you fall, you find someone to carry you." She looked into her sister's eyes and smiled. "You can't expect yourself to take it all alone. Alone will only bring you trouble." She gave her sister a hug and Ingrid hugged back hard.

"Girls! I'm making drunken noodle for supper! Come down and set the table!" Their father called from the kitchen below. Ingrid and Ariella smiled. They stood up and shared a look of complete understanding. They then stood back to back, their shoulder blades touching, and linked arms.

"I've got your back." Ariella said.

"And I've got yours." Ingrid replied. Something their mother had done with them when they were kids. An electronic ping interrupted their moment. Someone was messaging Ingrid.

"I'll set the table, just being a smile down with you." Ariella left the room. Ingrid felt a little better and pulled her laptop off the nightstand. The inbox had a blue number one blinking on it. She opened the message and almost dropped the laptop.

**VERMEER: Meet me behind the bleachers 7am tomorrow on the Bossaball field, west side.**

Fillmore looked to his partner's desk. It was empty. He could not contain the concern her felt by the lack of her being there.

"Has Ingrid called in sick?" He popped his head into Vallejo's office. Vallejo shook his head and yawned. Fillmore returned to his desk and sighed.

_BRRT_

"Dawg!" He scrambled for his cellphone at the edge of his desk.

"Corney?" Diann's voice on the line sounded hushed. There was a great deal of yelling and girly laughing in the background.

"Hey, what's up? Aren't you supposed to be at morning practice right now?" He turned to the side to keep his conversation quiet as more of the patrollers arrived.

"I am. I just had some gossip to share with yah about Ingrid." Fillmore bit his lip. This could go one of two ways.

"Shoot." He said.

"Well, I brought her up casually with some of the girls and Freda Watson told me she thought Ingrid was kinda weird. April Mueller also said she found Ingrid weird. But, Katy Blanchard remembered Ingrid from X-Middle and she said Ingrid helped her track down the guy who stole her essay final. She said Ingrid was cool." Fillmore let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Nothing weird then." He smiled.

"Wait! That's not the big thing!" Diann exclaimed. Fillmore's eyebrows shot up.

"What is it then?"

"Ethel Rosario brought up that her brother was one of the guys in the mail room and that he'd been going on and on about some letters that he'd delivered to Ingrid."

"Disco. What else did she say?"

"Not much. Coach called us in a little while ago. I just knew I had to tell you before lunch. I gotta go before they realize I'm on my phone. I'll keep you posted." Diann said quickly.

"Babe, you rock." Fillmore smiled.

"Heart yah." Diann said before hanging up. Fillmore stowed his phone in his desk and switched on his laptop. AS it booted up he kept an eye on the doorway. Tehama and Anza walked in hand in hand with cups of coffee, but separated their hands when Vallejo popped his head out of his office.

"You're all late! We need results on this case like yesterday people! Get to work!"

"Yo! Tehama! Anza!" Fillmore called them over. His login screen popped up and he unlocked his computer. He pulled up the school database the Safety Patrol used and typed in: Ethel Rosario.

"What's up?" Tehama asked as Anza took a sip of his coffee.

"Have either of you seen Ingrid? She's usually the first one in." Tehama shook her head.

"Naw. She's not on my usual route to school."

"I sometimes see her in the hallway on my way in, but we were both late so we didn't see anyone in the hall." Anza looked concerned. "Why do you ask?"

"She's not in and she hasn't called in sick or anything. I'm just kinda worried is all." Tehama bit her lip.

"Well, I remember she was one of the last people out of the building yesterday. She did a number on her locker door in the locker room." Tehama jerked her thumb toward the Safety Patroller's co-ed locker space. It was a small room where the patrollers could keep their bags as an alternative to the lockers in the hallways. Everyone used them.

"Show me." Fillmore said. Tehama lead the way and Anza followed, curious now. In the locker room the wall was lined with tall style lockers pained orange like the sashes they'd worn in middle school. The sash was only used in the high school for special occasions and everyone carried their badges on their person. Ingrid's locker was toward the back by Tehama's, which had been decorated with star stickers. The door was scuffed on the bottom half in long black lines.

"She kicked the crap out of the door when it wouldn't open. She asked me to unlock it since it didn't seem to like her." Fillmore squatted by the door and saw there was a tiny dent in the front as well. Despite appearances, Ingrid had real power to her and could easily take down a guy if she wanted to.

"Do you remember the combo?" Fillmore asked. Anza almost choked on his coffee and Tehama let out a strangled sound from her throat.

"What?!" Fillmore stood up and looked at them both, dead serious.

"You heard me." Tehama shook her head furiously.

"No way José! I could get expelled for that!" Tehama scowled at Fillmore.

"What's gotten into you man?!" Anza shook his head disapprovingly. Fillmore held his hands up.

"I don't know. I just think Ingrid's in some kind of trouble. Please Tehama. Open the locker." Tehama put her foot down.

"No way. I'm worried about her too but I will not betray her trust. You should know better than to just break into a girl's locker and riffle through her things. It's gross! Don't you dare ask me to do that again." With that, Tehama stormed out of the locker room. Anza gave Fillmore a clap on the shoulder.

"Normally, I'd say to go with your instincts, but-" Fillmore nodded.

"I know." Anza nodded and left Fillmore alone. He squatted down by the locker again and ran a finger along the scuffs and dent in the door. Ingrid had been pissed when she left. Why? What had gotten into her? She seemed to be getting better by the end of the day. She'd even caught Franklyn Logan in a lie. She wasn't losing her edge, so what was bothering her?

Fillmore walked back to his desk and saw that Ingrid was still absent. He sat down and looked over Ethel's school records. She had a brother alright, Bruno Rosario. He was a delivery boy for the school mail service and the regular guy on the Safety Patrol's route. Any minute now he's be delivering the morning mail. All Fillmore had to do now was wait. He fished out his cellphone from the desk and sent a quick text.

**To: 3Crackers3**

**Where R U? NEED 2 SEE U!**

_A/N: Had to cut myself off there cuz it's late and I have some major things to work on in school. Sorry for the wait. I had to go to a funeral out of town. My grandma died. I was actually having a panic attack about it all when I suddenly decided to write the first half of this chapter. The things listed that Ingrid did out of grief are variations of thing I have done in the past. Ingrid is a problem solver and grief is not logical. It is chaotic and logical people are thrown into the chaos without any means of getting out. I felt Ariella, as the older and wiser sister would make for a great comfort giver. I also love her as a character so expect to see more of her. R&R and I will get back to you soon! Again, sorry for the wait and resulting cliffhanger._

_~KungFuHime_


	9. Love all, trust a few

Ingrid wrapped herself up in her black jacket to shield against the autumn morning chill. The Bossaball field was deserted. She made her way quickly to the bleachers on the west side. The brisk jog had woken her up and she tried not to look nervous. Finally she was moments away from meeting the mysterious Vermeer. She tried not to fixate on who it could be and instead tried to figure out what to ask him first about the investigation. She settled on asking how he knew about the case before she had officially been assigned to it. As she rounded the corner and toward the back of the bleachers she immediately spotted a figure standing in blue jeans and a red hoodie. She could immediately tell from the build that it was a boy and his hood was up with his back to her.

"Vermeer?" Ingrid uttered the name on the chilly air. The boy turned and Ingrid felt her eyes pop out of her head.

"Morning officer Third." Brad Parnassus smirked from beneath his hood.

"You're Vermeer?!" Ingrid blurted out.

"Come now, you must realize that it is quite obvious." Ingrid couldn't think anymore. It was too much of a shock.

"But, you hate me! You tried to get me expelled from X-Middle School! Why would you be offering me help!?" Ingrid stomped forward. Parnassus put up his hands in a defensive pose.

"I don't believe that is the questions you wanted to ask me." He didn't look worried about Ingrid wailing on him in a few seconds. If anything he looked ready to receive the beating with a smile. She stopped short and took a deep breath before look at him again.

"You said you had information for me, but first I need to know something." He nodded and stuck his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

"Best way to get answers is to ask, Ingrid."

"How did you know I was on a case? Your letter offering help was sent the day before I joined the investigation."

"Simple. I'm on the student council. The Drama Club's cry for help passed through me before it was sent on to the Safety Patrol. I knew that the Junior Commissioner would only send his best for this predicament." Ingrid now fully understood.

"Any other things you'd like me to clear up for you or shall we do what we came here to do?" Ingrid gritted her teeth and shook her head. Parnassus smiled and pulled out a slip of paper from his hoodie. He held it out to Ingrid.

"This is my login information for the student council's secure webpage. With it you can reach places on the school network that even the Safety Patrol is denied." Ingrid reluctantly took the slip of paper and found it to be the same stock as the notes. Scribbled on it in pencil was the message:

**bParnassus**

**Password: s142-m173**

**Security code: ****iNpnTgt8fa2WCFh**

"What's the security code for?" Ingrid asked, her eyebrow cocked. Parnassus smirked.

"You've been watching Franklyn Logan. For such a good actor he really must invest in a good antiperspirant." With that Parnassus checked his wristwatch and turned to leave.

"It's really been a pleasure working with you again Officer Third." Ingrid grabbed him by his hoodie to prevent his escape.

"No! You don't get off that easy! You're up to something. You always are. What's you game Parnassus?!" Ingrid's angry breath was on his face and that would have been enough to make any random delinquent in the halls wet themselves. Parnassus was not like other delinquents though. He was smart. He was able to keep his cool under any sort of pressure. That made him all the more dangerous.

"Officer, you've got me all wrong. I'm merely doing my part to put an end to crime in this school." The edge on his voice never wavered and that made Ingrid angrier.

"Stop lying!" Ingrid was gripping his hoodie so tight her knuckles were turning white. Her forehead butted his in her haste to intimidate the truth out of him. What came next destroyed her calm altogether. Parnassus grabbed both sides of her face and planted a rough kiss on her mouth. Ingrid let out an angry screech which was muffled by Parnassus' lips. She finally wrestled her face from his and spat manically at the ground, the taste of him like a toxic mixture not meant to be consumed. She felt queasy and fought to keep from throwing up her oatmeal.

"Until next time Officer Third." Parnassus gave her a quick bow before walking away toward the school building. Ingrid felt her knees give out and she leaned against the bleachers for support. She stared at him as his figure grew smaller in the distance. She yell a few obscenities at him for good measure before rubbing her sleeve across her mouth as if it were a scouring pad on a burned skillet.

Her phone beeped in her pocket but she ignored it. She needed to get away, far away. She ran in the opposite direction of Parnassus and the school. She ran until she had retraced her route from home and stopped in front of the Egg Rollery. The open sign had just been flipped. She walked in and ordered a large coffee. She was running on auto pilot. She sat down at one of the tables and watched the news on the TV in the corner. The world was spinning but she didn't care. She burned her lips on the hot beverage but she found this comforting. Maybe she could burn him off of her mouth.

"Well-well-well, look what we have here." Ingrid turned and found herself staring straight into the face of Officer Langley Turk.

"Officer Turk." Ingrid said as she kept her eyes on the TV screen.

"Truancy is a felony Ms. Third. I hope you are aware of this." He crossed his arms in that self-righteous way of his.

"I'm aware." Ingrid said flatly as she sipped her coffee again.

"Then you know it's my job to bring you in." He jabbed his thumb toward his cart which was outside the Egg Rollery.

"Do I get to bring my coffee?" Ingrid asked. She felt vacant now, like her insides had been scooped out.

"As long as you don't do anything but drink it." Officer Turk chuckled.

"Okay." Ingrid got up and headed for the cart.

"Fillmore!" Vallejo yelled from his office doorway.

"What I do now? It's not even lunchtime yet?" Fillmore replied from his seat next to Tehama by the microscopes. He'd decided to kill time by looking busy while waiting on Ingrid's reply. He's messaged her over and hour ago and gotten nothing.

"Get in here!" Fillmore got up and walked at an easy pace into Vallejo's office. Vallejo slammed the door and rubbed his temples.

"Sit your ass down." Vallejo wasn't one for swearing so this had to be bad.

"What I do?" Fillmore asked as he took a seat in an orange plastic chair.

"This thing with you and Ingrid needs to stop now." Fillmore felt confused now.

"What thing?" Vallejo slammed his fist on his desk.

"You know what I'm talking about! The entire patrol knows about your disputes and the crap you've both been pulling. It needs to stop right now before one of you gets hurt." Before Fillmore could defend himself the phone rang.

"Vallejo." There was an awkward silence followed by a long sigh. "I understand. I'll be there in a few minutes." He hung up the phone and slumped into his chair.

"Looks like this talk came too late." Vallejo sighed.

"Who was on the phone?" Fillmore felt scared now. He knew it had to do with Ingrid's absence. There was no denying it.

"Ingrid was picked up by the Deputy Truancy Patrolman in town. She was cutting school." Vallejo shook his head and stood up. "Come with me." Fillmore followed without hesitation. He and Vallejo exited the office and headed for the hallway. All eyes were on them as if they were off to fight a war.

"Where are we going?" Fillmore dreaded the answer as they made their way to the main hallway thoroughfare.

"Principal's office. I have to be present for whatever punishment she receives so I can file the proper paperwork." Vallejo was trying his best not to sound upset, but his emotions always bubbled close to the surface. Ingrid had been his friend as well and seeing her in trouble was hard on him too.

"Why am I here?" Fillmore regretted asking this question.

"You're here to talk some sense into that girl. No matter what her punishment she needs a friend. You're her best friend, fix it." Fillmore nodded and straightened his shirt before entering the receptionist's office outside Principal Miller's office.

"Go right in, he's expecting you." The woman at the desk said before returning to her work. Fillmore and Vallejo entered the office and were greeted by a stern looking gentleman in a black suit with a black tie and cream dress shirt. He had his hands folded and his elbows on the edge of his desk, which was so tidy Fillmore wondered if the man was OCD. Ingrid sat in one of the two leather chairs in front of the desk. She never turned around to see them walk in nor did she move a muscle.

"Sit down boys." Principal Miller's voice was like creaking woodwork. Gravelly, like the cranky old man on the end of the block. He was easily in his fifties. Fillmore remained standing as Vallejo took the only other available chair.

"Ms. Third was caught cutting school. Is this the kind of people you have working in our Safety Patrol, Vallejo? Delinquents and slackers?" The word choices struck several chords in Fillmore's gut, but Ingrid was on another planet now. She was so far away nothing could touch her. Dawg, what had happened to her?

"She's dedicated to the badge, sir. Ingrid is one of our best, as her record shows." At this, Principal Miller sighed and turned his 360 computer monitor around to show them his screen.

"I am aware of her record with the patrol, but the rest of her record is what concerns me more. She is a troubled girl. She's never denied it." On his screen were several disciplinary reports filed by her old schools. All of them, unfortunately, had pictures.

"This is only the first strike so far in her time at this school, but I am concerned for the safety of the entire student body. Can Ms. Third be trusted to protect and defend those students?" Vallejo was in a bind, so Fillmore felt it time to step up and be the friend he'd neglected to be as of late.

"Sir, may speak in her defense?" Principal Miller looked up at him and nodded, his expression on his weathered face never changing. "When I met Ingrid she was a lost cause. What's worse is that she believed it. She had fallen into bad habits because everyone else had given up on her. I didn't see a lost cause though. I saw myself. I had a reputation as bad as hers. Worse, even. I know everyone else was ready to write her off as a delinquent. Even she wrote herself off. Not me. I believed in her and she, in turn, began to see the light. Ingrid is not one of the best. She is the best. She is a changed person. Don't judge her by her past misdeed, but by the fact that she overcame all that stuff." Ingrid seemed to stir in the chair, he was reaching her.

"High School is a brand new place. It bigger, badder, and it gets in your head. Thing that didn't matter before suddenly mean the world to everyone. Ingrid's not like everyone else. The things that make her really good at what she does also alienate her. She's been hit hard by the transition and I think she just let it all overwhelm her a bit." Principal Miller was looking directly at Fillmore and Ingrid had managed to peer at him over her shoulder, a wide expression on her face.

"You believe Ms. Third is simple responding to her current difficulties in an irrational fashion?" Fillmore shook his head.

"Yes, sir." Principal Miller nodded again and looked at Vallejo.

"I cannot take any action against her at this time due to the Three Strikes Policy. She is to be punished as you see fit. I want the paperwork in by the end of the day. You may go now." Vallejo shook hands with the principal before ushering Fillmore and Ingrid out. Only when they were all standing in the hallway did Fillmore let out the breath he'd been holding.

"You two, as I don't want to see your faces until you've worked things out. Understood?" Vallejo set his jaw. Ingrid and Fillmore nodded and watched him go. They stood in an awkward silence for some time before Fillmore took a stab at conversation.

"So. You didn't answer my call." Fillmore began. Ingrid shook her head.

"I was a bit preoccupied." She had her hands in her pockets and wasn't making eye contact." It was like she had been cut open at the seams and shaken out until empty. She was a deflated balloon. It was all wrong.

"Where were you this morning?" Fillmore asked. He did not wish to interrogate his friend, but he needed to know. After a painfully long pause, Ingrid looked in the general area of Fillmore's face.

"I was meeting with Vermeer." Fillmore was stunned. He began to run on autopilot, ushering Ingrid down the hall to one of the stairwells, where nobody would be at this time of day.

"You met Vermeer? In the flesh?" Fillmore was shocked.

"Yeah." Ingrid's voice was like a half whisper.

"Do you know him? Is he from our school?" Fillmore fired his questions at Ingrid, but she looked ready to collapse. She resembled a marathon runner after crossing the finish line.

"It's Parnassus." Ingrid's mouth was dry. Fillmore grabbed the stair rail to keep from falling.

"Come again?" She looked at his in the same vacant way she'd been looking at him all morning.

"Vermeer is Parnassus." Ingrid said again. Another awkward silence followed.

"You okay?" Fillmore asked. Ingrid said nothing again. Fillmore didn't know why, but he had to do something. He pulled his best friend into a hug. Not too tight but it was meaningful and Ingrid hugged him back. She didn't let go, even after the bell rang for lunch.

"We should go." Ingrid mumbled into his shoulder as they heard people coming up the stairs to reach the next floor.

"You feeling up to working? You could always call for your dad to take you home. You definitely look sick." Ingrid seemed to be regaining her color. She was pulling Fillmore toward the Safety Patrol office.

"No. I'm fine. I have to get to my desk." Fillmore didn't argue with Ingrid. He followed her closely as they entered the patrol room. All eyes were following the pair as Ingrid madly sat and tapped away at the keys of her computer. Tehama and Anza joined Fillmore behind Ingrid's chair as she pulled up the school network login. She pulled out a scrap of paper and began to enter login information.

"Where'd you get that?" Tehama asked as she read the ID. The network logged in and her page was redirected to the school's security system. Small screens displaying the hallways via camera footage filled the page.

"Whoa." Anza said under his breath. This was the part if the school's security system that they needed to fill out piles of paperwork to get access from and even then, only under supervision from the network administrator.

"Ingrid. This is breaking school policy." Fillmore said uneasily.

"I know, but there's something here. Something Parnassus told me would prove Franklyn Logan's involvement with the sabotage on the drama club." Tehama and Anza both looked shocked at the mention of Brad Parnassus. None of them had encountered him in quite some time, though they begrudgingly saw him rise in rank at X-Middle over the years.

"Why were you talking to Parnassus about the case? Nobody is supposed to talk to students about an investigation while it's in progress." Tehama put her hand on Ingrid's shoulder. Ingrid turned to look at her friends. They all had matching looks of concern on their faces. Ingrid suddenly felt years younger in a different place. When things were simpler and the stakes weren't nearly as high.

"I promise I'll come clean with you guys but right now you have to trust me." Ingrid sighed. Her eyes pleaded with the trio for release from their questions.

"This better start making sense." Anza said. The others nodded and allowed Ingrid to finish typing. She pulled up a search and typed in the final part of the information on the scrap of paper. A new window popped up and on it was a video from the stage door on the side of the school, behind the stage. Franklyn Logan and another student were having a heated argument, though about what was in question as there was no sound. In his hand was the missing Puck costume. The other student, a boy dressed in a suit and tie snatched the costume up and balled it into a paper bag. More arguing and the fight ended in a punch in the stomach directed at Franklyn. As he settled into a hunch on the ground the other boy left with the costume and the video ended.

_A/N: Wow this was a long chapter. Once again I wrote late in the night so there is a lot here that I had to reread to totally understand. So begins the ongoing storyline of this fic. R&R, thank you again for the condolences to my loss._

_~KungFuHime_


	10. Give me your hands, if we be friends

"The perp on the video with Logan is Virgil Rolf Delgado. Junior with a record like a didgeridoo." Anza laid the file on Virgil on Vallejo's desk. Ingrid and Fillmore stood next to him with Tehama and O'Farrell lingering by the doorway. The gang was all here.

"Virgil's best known for his skills as a manipulator. He's just a hired hand, but he's a really hands on sort of worker." Fillmore continued.

"We need to bring Franklyn Logan back in and confront him with this evidence. It's obvious he was hiding something before and now we know he was being threatened. All we need is to get him to talk to us." Ingrid tried not to look like she was on an adrenaline high, which she was. A break in any case got her going like a monkey out of a barrel.

"Exactly what I was thinking. You caught this lead so you carry out the interrogation, Third." Vallejo smirked. "Let's move people. The end's in sight." The group left the room.

"O'Farrell and I will go get Logan." Anza smiled and gave Ingrid a pat on the back. "When this is all over you owe us that explanation." He whispered before leaving the room with O'Farrell.

"I'll just wait in the room." Ingrid retreated to the holding room. Fillmore followed with Tehama on his tail.

"Ingrid. Don't hide." Fillmore tried to talk to her but she shut the door before he could get close to her.

"Don't worry. She's just feeling the job right now. Once it's over she'll open up." Tehama reassured. Anza and O'Farrell returned soon enough with Franklyn Logan in tow, looking a bit rough around the edges. He entered the holding room looking nowhere near as calm and collected as he had the last time. Ingrid was sitting in the room with him.

"Franklyn. You told us you had no idea who was causing these accidents. Why did you lie?" Ingrid began. He didn't look shocked, more panicked. He resembled a deflating balloon in the chair across from him.

"I-uh…" Franklyn was sweating profusely.

"How's your stomach doing?" She offered. Franklyn's eyes went wide.

"How did you? I mean, uh-…" He cut himself off again.

"Virgil Delgado. He's been pushing you around a lot, hasn't he?" Franklyn resigned to his fate and nodded.

"Yes." Ingrid nodded, her tone changing from business to friendly.

"Virgil's just the muscle though. Who does he work for and why does he have it out for the Shakespeare Club?" Ingrid leaned closer at the table. Franklyn wiped the sweat form his brow and searched for the words.

"It's not how it was supposed to go. I just got roped into all of this. I never thought much about it all till the sandbag." A tear streaked down Franklyn's cheek. "Glenna could have been killed." He choked on the last word.

"So you felt the sudden need to make it all right. You told me where the cat walk was and basically steered me toward the evidence. You've been more helpful than you realize Franklyn. Tell me what happened." She patted his hand, which was clammy and wet.

"I was back stage late one afternoon and this guy, Abel something, was in the dressing room. He was chatting with me about the upcoming festival and how it was never gonna sell enough tickets to cover the costs of the productions. He was right of course. The festival hasn't raked in a decent profit in years. We barely scraped into the profit zone last year and we had to fight to put on this festival this year. Abel said he could ensure a full house for five out of the seven performances, all I needed to do was let him or his friend in during practice every day. After the first couple of incidents I began to wonder what he was doing while we were in rehearsal. I pretended to be sick during a scene to get backstage and I saw Abel and his guy, Virgil, stashing stuff in the costume room. I don't know what it was but they thought I did. They said that if I told anyone then they'd make sure nobody came to the shows. I felt so guilty that I just went along with it. Just to ensure that I wouldn't betray them they cause all kinds of problems with the show. I don't think they ever intended to help us, only use us. I was just so stupid to believe them." Franklyn was a mess now. He cried profusely and Ingrid had to get up for a moment to retrieve a box of tissues from outside the room. Fillmore and Tehama were standing where she'd left them.

"He's talking." Ingrid said before returning to the room. She sat the tissues on the table and allowed Franklyn ample time to dry his face and bow his nose.

"I know where they hid the stuff, but I didn't dare try to find out what it was. If Abel knew then I'd be under a sandbag right now." Ingrid nodded.

"You think you could identify Abel from a photo?" Ingrid asked. Franklyn nodded.

"I think I'll have his face stuck in my head for all eternity."

"Wait here." Ingrid left the room.

"He was blackmailed by a guy named Abel. He's the one behind the accidents. Abel and his buddy Virgil are apparently using the costume room to stash some stuff. He doesn't know what but it must be big if the guy is willing to go to such lengths to keep Franklyn quiet." Fillmore crossed his arms.

"Abel?" He frowned and crossed his arms. "Disco!" Fillmore hurried to the file cabinet and pulled a folder. It held the permanent record of one; Abel Garrett.

"Abel Garrett, major counterfeiter and a good one at that. His stuff is almost impossible to tell from the real deal. Last time he was busted he got off due to lack of evidence. The fake student IDs he'd made so that underclassmen could attend upper-class functions were stolen from the evidence room. Apparently he has a secret network all over the school to do his dirty work." Tehama was almost impressed.

"I heard about him from one of the older patrollers. Said he painted a red strike on the whole Safety Patrol by getting away with it. Principal Miller threatened to make every patroller serve Saturday detention for mishandling the case." Fillmore sighed. Ingrid studied the photo of Abel. He wasn't anything that she'd expected. He was 5'6" with light skin and sandy blonde hair and green eyes. His face was round and he wasn't exactly skinny. He was definitely a size large and quite imposing looking, even in his school photo. He looked like anyone. How could this guy be a criminal mastermind?

"All we need is a confirmation of ID from Mr. Logan and we can start our search for Garrett." Fillmore said. Ingrid nodded. She took the photo to Franklyn and he confirmed Abel's identity.

"Do you know where we can find him?" Ingrid asked.

"Yes and no. I've never been but I'm pretty sure he works out of the digital printing room in the art hall." Franklyn said. Ingrid nodded.

"I'm going to get you processed and then you can go. Thank you for your help." Ingrid left the room and relayed the information to the group.

"We can get a warrant from Vallejo and check out the printing room." Tehama smiled and hurried to Vallejo's office. Fillmore gave Ingrid a thumbs up. He didn't smile, but the gesture was a comfort.

"Alright people. Our focus has been turned to one Abel Garrett and his thug Virgil Delgado. They are our prime suspects in the Shakespeare Club case. I've got a warrant to search the printing room for anything tying these tow to the accidents. Fillmore and Third will be heading the search. Choose your team quickly and get a move one." Ingrid grabbed Tehama and O'Farrell while Fillmore grabbed Anza and a couple of the Seniors to be extra thorough. The group marched down the halls with new purpose. Ingrid hadn't felt this good in days. Even the incident from the morning couldn't dampen her spirits as they entered the printing room.

"X-High Safety Patrol. Drop what you're doing and line up against the wall." Anza announced. The room was large and filled with students at printing stations. The smell of ink and the sound of industrial printers was heavy in the air. The printers began to line up when the face of Abel Garrett exited the supply closet on the other end of the room.

"What's going on?!" He demanded.

"Abel Garrett?" Fillmore approached the suspect.

"Yeah, who wants to know?" He adjusted the placement of his jacket.

"We're searching this print room for evidence linking you to the accidents which have been occurring at the Shakespeare Club's rehearsals." He looked like he'd just been slapped in the face.

"Why the heck would I have anything to do with that?" He looked flustered as the patrollers fanned out around the room, searching piles of paper and opening up the sides of the printers.

"Careful! Those prints are very delicate! Any smudges and we'll have to redo the whole lot!" Ingrid picked up one of the pages at the corners. It was an ad for the upcoming X-County art fair. It was on thick stock paper to make it more durable. Ingrid walked past the supply closet and immediately smelled something she recognized.

"Tehama!" Ingrid called. Her friend was holding her forensics kit.

"What's up?" Ingrid pointed to the door knob. "You smell that?" Tehama looked confused.

"Smell what?" Ingrid held out her hand and Tehama handed her a swab from her kit. Ingrid swabbed the knob and held it to Tehama's nostrils.

"Smells like rubber and ammonia." Tehama said. Then it hit her. "Liquid latex." Ingrid nodded.

"Like the kind in Ben Nye stage makeup kits." Tehama nodded. Anza heard the whole conversation and turned to Abel.

"What's in the closet?" Anza demanded.

"None of your business, sir!" Abe; crossed his arms.

"Then you won't mind if we have a look around." Fillmore smirked. He opened the closet door and switched on the lights, much to the protestations of Garrett.

"Crackers." Ingrid gasped. Inside the closet was a whole slew of incriminating evidence. Boxes of fake school IDs awaiting information to be put on them, counterfeit gift certificates to the school store, and most importantly, a makeup kit. Upon closer inspection it was found to be labeled.

"Property of Jarod K. Webster, aka Hamlet." Fillmore turned to Abel, who sputtered many denials as to what was in the storage room, proclaiming his innocence for all who would listen.

"I think you have a lot of explaining to do." Anza said, before taking him by the arm and ushering him out of the room with a pair of Senior patrollers as backup. O'Farrell began photographing the whole scene while Tehama collected fiber evidence and finger prints.

"You did good." Fillmore said in a low voice.

"What you mean is; I owe you now." Ingrid sighed.

"That too." He muttered. Ingrid checked the clock. It was just after lunch time as the class change bell rang.

"Cocoa?" Ingrid shrugged. Fillmore nodded.

"Cocoa."

* * *

"I can't believe it!" Fillmore exclaimed. He and Ingrid sat on the front steps of the school building. They held mugs of cocoa in hand while Ingrid laid out the entirety of her encounter with Vermeer/Parnassus.

"I know. I can still feel his slimy hands on me." Ingrid gaged. She took a sip of her rapidly cooling drink as Fillmore set his mug down.

"Why did you go see him? It could have been a trap. Dawg, it was a trap in a way!" Ingrid thought long and hard about her reasons.

"I was mad at you and I just wanted to be in control of something. I thought I could trust him, but that all went to hell the minute I found out it was Parnassus." Fillmore patted her on the back.

"You can't trust him, even if that info he gave you was on the level. Whatever happens, if he tries to contact you again you tell us." Fillmore looked straight into Ingrid's eyes. She'd never seen him so serious about something before.

"I know. I was being stupid. I'm burning those notes as soon as I get home. I'm gonna do a smudging on all of my stuff just to be sure everything's clean." Ingrid downed the rest of her cocoa.

"Smudging?" Fillmore cocked an eyebrow.

"You know, the Native American cleansing ritual?" Ingrid looked at him with her green eyes, so completely honest it was funny.

"Nope. Never heard of it." He smirked. Ingrid laughed.

"It's the Abe Lincoln lunchbox all over again." She mused.

"Yeah, but that's why you're cool." Fillmore drank his cocoa. Ingrid took a deep breath in and stood, stretching her arms.

"Guess we better head back in. I can almost hear Vallejo yelling your name as we speak." Ingrid laughed, and as if on cue the familiar scream echoed form the open window of the Patrol room. Ingrid and Fillmore had made a pit stop to talk before joining the team in the Patrol room.

"Either you're psychic, or I'm getting predictable." Fillmore laughed as he got up too.

"Your choice." Ingrid smiled. She seemed lighter now. Like some spark inside had been fanned back into an inferno. Fillmore was glad. This inner radiance suited her better. Her phone beeped suddenly.

"I'll meet you there. It's probably my sister." Ingrid said, fishing her phone out of her pocket. Fillmore nodded before leaving her in peace.

"Officer Third, I'm glad I caught you." A familiar, though unexpected voice reverberated on the line.

"Julian? How did you get my number?" She gapped.

"Not the subject I wish to discuss. I have something that you may find interesting." Julian's smooth voice never missed a beat.

"I'm kinda in the middle of something. Can it wait?" Ingrid began to feel she was missing out on the action in the Patrol room.

"It has to do with the identity of Vermeer." Julian said.

"Too late Julian. He already contacted me. It was Brad Parnassus all along. Thanks for the concern but it wasn't necessary for you to-."

"Brad Parnassus? No, no, no! That's not who it is Officer!" Ingrid stopped talking.

"What do you mean? He send one of the notes the other day in code saying we should meet. He was at the meeting place. He even confirmed his identity. How can it not be him?" Ingrid was flustered.

"It's easier if I show you. Can you come to my studio after school today?" Julian urged. Ingrid was far too curious to be kept away now.

"I'll be there." Ingrid said.

_A/N: More twists that a rejected pretzel! So happy I can stop abusing Ingrid and Fillmore's friendship and start working more on the development of other characters, namely Diann. No spoilers, but I plan on her and Ingrid becoming friends in the future. R&R but don't expect much updating until after the break. I'm busy working on cosplays for the upcoming convention on Friday! Kisses!_

_~KungFuHime_


	11. One Foot Infront of the Other Foot

The Safety Patrol held Abel Garrett for the evidence found in his store room, though he still pronounced himself innocent of the accidents. With great frustration, Vallejo released Garrett into the hands of the school board. Principal Miller sent his congratulations via Vice Principal O'Neal, a smiling man in a grey suit. He shook hands with virtually every member of the patrol, though most felt as if their job was only half done. Ingrid and Fillmore were both gathering their stuff from the locker room at the end of the day.

"So, planning on celebrating?" Fillmore deadpanned. Ingrid shut the door of her locker and slung her bag over her shoulder.

"Can't celebrate till the case is closed. Besides, I've gotta meeting with Randall Julian." Ingrid smirked.

"Oh snap! You're serious?" Ingrid nodded.

"I went to him with the Vermeer notes to try and figure out who he was." Fillmore looked confused.

"Hardly seems to matter now that Parnassus fessed up." Ingrid adjusted the strap of her bag.

"That's what I thought when he called me, but her said that Parnassus can't be Vermeer." Fillmore got that interested look on his face. The one usually followed by him adjusting his shades and beckoning her toward some unknown crime scene.

"Mind if I tag along? I'm kinda way to interested now to let go." Ingrid smiled.

"Sure." Nice change of pace. Keeping secrets was getting to be exhausting. Fillmore and her walked out of the office together and exited the building side by side. Fillmore pulled out his cell phone at the cross walk.

"Calling Diann?" Ingrid asked. Fillmore nodded.

"Just checking in." Ingrid shifted the weight on her feet as Fillmore left a message.

"So, how serious is this relationship of yours?" Ingrid asked as they walked.

"I don't know. We're kinda doing things in baby steps. She and I went to dinner with my folks after the ceremony. She eats lunch with me a lot, sometimes we go for walks since she lives only a couple streets away." Fillmore was blushing.

"Sounds pretty serious to me." Ingrid smiled. She felt a tiny bit envious. "Wish I had a boyfriend who wanted to spend time with me." There was an awkward silence between the pair as they approached X-Middle School. Memories of countless afternoons spent on the case flooded their senses. There was the Bocce field where they chased down many delinquents. There was the lake where they captured the tartar sauce thief. On the steps stood a familiar face to both, Randall Julian.

"Afternoon officers." Julian's usual cool demeanor was not present with his customary greeting. An air of urgency was about the young boy. Ingrid and Fillmore wasted no time in following him inside the school and roaming the once familiar halls.

"Want to clue us in on what's going on?" Fillmore prodded as they headed toward the main exhibition hall of X-Middle School.

"I don't know if you got the memo, but the public school art exhibition is being held here this year. Artists from all over X-County have been selected to be part of the showcase. I was chosen as the headlining artist this year."

"Congratulations!" Ingrid smiled to Randall and gave him a pat on the back. Fillmore was equally happy and gave him a thumbs up. Randall smirked.

"Thanks, but that's not the reason I mentioned it. As the headliner I'm allowed certain privileges. One such privilege is organizing my entire display area in the exhibition hall. I also get to have input on the placement of the rest of the artists in the show." The trio entered the hall and were able to take in the full scope of the art fair as it was being set up. Volunteers were milling about with boxes on dollies and bubble wrap sheets being taken off of delicate pieces of art. Though still in the early stages of set up, several of the displays were already set up and velvet roped off. At the center of the room was the wondrous sight of Julian's noodle sculptures and collages. Fillmore whistled above the noise in approval.

"It all looks really amazing Julian." Ingrid smiled at the King Kong sculpture she'd seen on her previous visit. Now completed it had been accented with colored bowtie pasta up the sides of the Empire State Building and a tiny Fay Ray made from cooked and re-dried angel hair pasta sat in Kong's penne hand.

"I think you'll find this even more interesting than my works." Fillmore and Ingrid dragged themselves away from the pasta toward an incomplete display on the far end of the room. A few framed watercolors were hung up on the wall while many more frames were still in the process of being unpacked. They sat stacked against the wall, awaiting someone's undivided attention. Julian sifted through the frames on the ground and pulled a medium sized mahogany frame with a white backing. He held it up against himself and allowed Fillmore and Ingrid to appreciate the work.

"Crackers!" Ingrid stared at the lines done in charcoal pencil. Fillmore breathed a similar remark. The image was striking. Water ran down a small stream and off the edge of a waterfall into a glistening pool. At the center of the pool was a canoe and within the canoe lay a sleeping girl. Her long hair filled the bottom of the boat and ran off the sides into the water in long tendrils. Her calm face was pleasantly graced with a tiny smile.

"It's called Lady of the Lake." Ingrid involuntarily reached out to touch the drawing, but was stopped by Fillmore.

"Wouldn't want to smudge it." Julian nodded before hanging it up on a nail.

"I was cataloguing the exhibit this morning when I came across this piece. It's a bit different considering the change in medium, but the aesthetics and skills used to create this piece are unmistakable. This was definitely done by the one you call Vermeer." At first, Ingrid didn't believe what she was hearing. Parnassus had confessed to writing the letters. All the signs pointed to him. But the more she looked at the drawing before her the more she saw parallels to the early notes with the sketches. The girl in the canoe even looked similar to her. Same face shape and smirk. Julian had called her Vermeer's muse, so it wasn't that strange to find her likeness within Vermeer's other works.

"Who's the artist?" Fillmore asked.

"That's just it. This work is the only one from this particular artist and he submitted it anonymously. You are allowed to do that sort of thing when submitting your work for review by the judges." Ingrid felt a pang of disappointment by not knowing who Vermeer was. At the same time she felt relieved that Parnassus wasn't Vermeer.

"But, if Parnassus isn't Vermeer, then why pretend to be? What does he have to gain by this? Also, how'd he know about Vermeer in the first place?" Ingrid thought aloud. Fillmore shook his head.

"Got me. That guy was always a fishy one. He seemed to know everything when we knew him back in the day. For all we know he's got a network like Abel Garrett did." Ingrid took one more look at the drawing and got an idea. She took out her phone and snapped a photo of the drawing.

"Evidence."

The next day was rather uneventful, in spite of the stir that Abel Garrett's upcoming hearing had cause. The dismantling of one of the school's biggest counterfeiting networks was big news. The Safety Patrol had gotten a sudden boost in positive press, which was not an easy feat. Tehama and Anza once again proposed the BossaBall tickets to Ingrid and Fillmore, as the big game was approaching.

"You know you'll like it!" Anza practically begged. Tehama nodded.

"I gotta admit, it's a really interesting sport." Ingrid shrugged. Her personal quest to discover the identity of Vermeer was becoming too much to handle. She'd already pinned the notes to her corkboard in the basement and begun an investigation web with pieces of red yarn and thumbtacks. Taking a break was unthinkable. But, she underestimated how persuasive her friends could be. That Friday, she was sitting in the stands with a sack of eggrolls watching her first BossaBall match.

"Okay, the players can use any part of their body to hit the ball. The team can only touch the ball 5 times while the ball is on their side. If the ball hits the trampoline on their opponent's side they score points. If the ball touches the opponent's playing field it also counts as points. Anything is allowed so long as the plays have at least one body part on their side of the net and they never touch the net." Anza rattled out the basics as the home team gave the serve. Ingrid spotted Chester Colman and Jake Bernard making unbelievable passes on the ball. Each player was breathtakingly agile and oftentimes did crowd pleasing flips and kicks just to show off their skills.

"I gotta admit. This is a sport I could get into." Ingrid yelled above the cheers to Fillmore. He smiled in agreement.

"I found you!" Ingrid looked up and was greeted by the sight of Diann. She was smiling and still wearing her X-High cheerleading uniform. Fillmore shot up and wrapped her in a hug. They were forced to sit back down by rabid fans in the row behind them.

"I invited Diann, hope you guys don't mind." Fillmore smiled. Tehama and Anza didn't seem to care. Ingrid felt suddenly awkward. She was the only one in the group without a date and even though this had not been a date related outing, it had suddenly become one. Anza and Tehama were both holding hands while Fillmore and Diann were talking avidly about something Ingrid couldn't make out. She tried to focus on the game to block out her new found disappointment.

"Can I have one of those? I'm starved." Diann poked Ingrid shoulder and pointed to the eggroll bag. Ingrid nodded and handed her one.

"I over bought." Ingrid said, not really sure if Diann could hear her as the visiting team scored a game changer.

"Are these from the EggRollery?" Diann suddenly asked as she munched. Somehow she'd moved between Fillmore and Ingrid.

"Yeah. I live near there so I buy lunch there a lot." Ingrid said. Diann smiled.

"I love that place! It's kinda my diet ruiner. I seriously only have these like once a month because of the calories." Ingrid hadn't really thought about how many calories were in an eggroll. How many of these did she eat on a daily basis? Did it really matter since she was extremely active on the beat and naturally skinny? Ingrid blushed now. Diann finished her eggroll and thanked Ingrid.

"No prob." Diann seemed nice enough. Ingrid felt a little better knowing the girl at least was a fan of eggrolls.

"Corney tells me about you and him all the time." Diann started talking again. Ingrid simply nodded a lot out of politeness. She was listening, but at a loss for words. She was mostly trying to figure out Diann's character. Sweet, social, easy going. And yet, Ingrid didn't know a thing about her.

"How's you and Fillmore meet?" Ingrid asked suddenly. Diann smiled thinking about it.

"He and I were at orientation this summer and we were seated next to one another. We kinda hit it off and exchanged e-mails for a while. Suddenly he asked if I'd like to go out with him and, well. That's kinda it." So, they'd known each other since the beginning of the year. He'd never even let on. He'd kept Diann a secret from even Anza. Ingrid hadn't gone to orientation because she'd been out of town that week.

"Sounds like one of those chance encounters." Ingrid mused.

"Yeah. It's like fate pushed us together or something." Diann smiled. Her phone buzzed loudly and Diann picked up. She frowned.

"What?" Fillmore had been watching the game intently, but his mind had been on the girls and their conversation the whole time.

"Nothing. Just a message from one of the girls about a schedule change for the practice tomorrow. It's been bumped up an hour. Weird, it'll be way early." Diann sighed. "I guess that means I can get an extra hour to study for my psychology quiz."

"You're taking psych?" Ingrid cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I'm learning to be a profiler. It's kinda a dream of mine." Ingrid was dumbfounded.

"Seriously?!" Diann nodded.

"Is that odd to you?" Ingrid didn't want to sound snobby, but she didn't want to lie either.

"I just didn't peg you for the type." A new found respect for Diann shot up in Ingrid's gut.

"I get that a lot. Mostly from my classmates. When I wore my uniform o class a bunch of the guys asked me why I was wearing a costume around." Diann laughed. "I sure set them straight." Ingrid giggled too.

"Yeah. I get that a lot too." The game ended with X-High school's Hoopster Colman scoring a winning spike. The four of off duty patrollers and cheerleader in the crowd all stood up and cheered with the student body as the team jumped for joy and executed several victory flips.

Ingrid's voice was hoarse from the excitement when she was dropped off by Fillmore's dad.

"See you at lunch tomorrow?" Diann called from the backseat. Ingrid gave her a thumbs up.

"Totally." Fillmore smiled to his partner. He was glad that she was finally getting to know Diann.

As Ingrid got ready for her shower she checked her message on her laptop.

**You have 1 new message**

She opened her inbox. There was no message. Only an attachment and a lonely letter **V**.

"Which one are you?" Ingrid muttered to herself as she opened the attachment. She was received an answer which chilled her to the bone. It was a snapshot of the drawing Julian had shown her and Fillmore earlier in the week. It hung in its frame as it had the day she'd seen it. It wasn't just the same drawing. It was literally the same photo she'd taken with her phone. Ingrid pulled out her phone and found it turned on and the text feature open. A message was waiting for her.

**Critique me Ingrid. Your opinion is the only one that matters.**

_A/N: (bowing on the floor in shame) I promised to write and then I went and kept you all waiting! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! Being a senior in high school sucks the life right out of you! I spend more time sleeping off the school drama than anything else! The reviews really kicked my butt back into gear. This chapter was a three day effort so excuse the disjointed feel in some parts. I just really needed to move the plot along. R&R! IT REALLY MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE! I promise I will write more! I mean it this time!_

_~KungFuHime_


	12. Catch You

The Vermeer notes sat in two piles on Fillmore's desk. One pile was for the notes which they knew were the true Vermeer's work and the other were the fakes written by Parnassus.

"This still isn't right." Ingrid sighed. "The handwriting is the same in all the written notes. The only changes is the absence of anything artistic." She held the silk flower in her thumb and forefinger. The Vermeer postcard and penciled sketches sat in their pile like a tempting slice of peach pie. Their secretive writer winking cheekily at the pair or Safety Patrollers.

"We may have to consider something a little grim." Fillmore sighed. Ingrid raised her eyebrow.

"What?" She asked.

"That Parnassus knows Vermeer and is using him to get to you." Ingrid nodded. The thought had crossed her mind, but now it was a possibility that she couldn't ignore.

"We need to find out who this guy is. The sooner we do, the sooner this will all start to make sense." They bagged the two piles and slid them into the bottom drawer of Ingrid's desk. Just then, Tehama and Anza entered with O'Farrell in tow. He was waving his hands in an excited way.

"There's no way she's going out with him again! Come on!" Ingrid and Fillmore joined the trio in the locker room.

"What's all this about?" Ingrid asked, with a smirk. Tehama shook her head.

"O'Farrell's got some lady trouble." Anza was patting a distraught O'Farrell on the back.

"Oh snap! What happened?" Fillmore joined in. O'Farrell looked like a kicked puppy.

"My girlfriend and I were going to the fall formal together. All my dance lessons were finally starting to pay off and she decided at the last minute to get back with her ex." O'Farrell let out a cry of overdramatic anguish before settling in a heap on a bench.

"That's gotta hurt." Ingrid mused.

"Tell me about it. What's worse is the price of those nonrefundable tickets." Tehama sighed. She pulled out a pair of tickets from her locker to show Ingrid. They were black and red, the school colors. The glossy paper from the printers was a nice added touch. Ingrid felt herself choke a little when she read the price.

"$50 a person! What kind of school dance is that expensive?!" Tehama smiled and put her tickets back in her locker.

"The kind that has a full buffet and Glenn Miller revival band." Ingrid eyed Anza.

"Must have set you back a wad." Anza shrugged.

"I'll probably feel the loss when there's a movie I want to see and I have no money to see it with." O'Farrell gave another overly dramatic sigh on the bench.

"She hated him! WHY ANGELINE!? WHY!?" Ingrid patted her ginger friend on the back.

"She'll see the error of her ways eventually." O'Farrell smirked and heaved a final dramatic sigh.

"This ain't a chick flick people. Get in here on the triple!" Vallejo shouted into the doorway. He'd forgotten to shave some fuzz from his cheek this morning and he looked a bit sleep deprived around the eyes. The group hustled out into the patrol room. The rest of the Safety Patrol was present with sterns looks all around.

"Alright people. The Fall Formal is this Friday and Principal Miller wants us on high alert. For the last three years there has been a rise in student delinquency which coincides with the dance." One of the patrollers put up a poster on stand. It was a blown up version of the Fall Formal poster which was hanging all over the school.

"We need patrollers who aren't going to the dance to work the beat. We're talking hallway walkers, ticket checkers, bathroom attendants, the whole nine yards." Ingrid raised her hand.

"I'm free that night." Vallejo nodded.

"Great. Anyone else unattached for that evening?" Seven more patrollers volunteered their time. Vallejo gave them all purple sheets with the various jobs they'd be doing at the dance. The required dress code was the orange sash, badges visible at all times, and the school's logoed T-shirts. Ingrid would have to buy one form the school apparel store by The EggRollery after school. Vallejo thanked everyone for their attention and returned to his office.

"Looks like we're all gonna be at the dance after all." Fillmore remarked. Ingrid nodded.

"Don't expect me to be doing the _Cha-Cha Slide_. I'm on duty." Ingrid smirked. She looked over at her inbox and noticed a manila folder. She took it out and read the red stamped front. _URGENT_.

"Wonder what this could be." Fillmore raised an eyebrow. Ingrid tore the top flap and pulled out a stack of papers. The student government stationary rested on the top.

**Ingrid Third, it is with great urgency that you attend that you appear before the Student Government on October 14****th**** at 10:30 am. If you do not comply with the previously stated action you will receive a five day suspension from the Safety Patrol and one strike on your high school record.**

"Crackers." Ingrid stared at the sheet of paper. Fillmore read the page over her shoulder. He took off his shades and rubbed his eyes in frustration.

"What do you wanna bet Parnassus has a hand in this?" Ingrid sighed and fished her sash out of the top drawer of her desk.

"I'm due over thee right now. Tell Vallejo I'll be right back." Her partner nodded and she disappeared out the door.

"Officer Ingrid Third, come in." The secretary of the student government buzzed her into the office. Several well-dressed students were milling about with piles of paperwork. At the front of the room was the "big three".

Treasurer; Miriam Walsh. Sophomore student on the chess team and with ambitions for Valedictorian placement.

Vice-President; Cheri Shotwell. Freshman student and head cheerleader for the varsity team. Holds county record for most backflips during a halftime show.

President; Brad Parnassus. Enemy.

Ingrid resisted the urge to straighten her sash. She didn't want to give a single thought away to Parnassus. His smug grin was unreadable.

"Thank you very very much for coming down here Ingrid!" Cheri smiled so wide her eyes became slits. Her teeth were like a toothpaste ad. Her enthusiastic nature from middle school had not faded in the least. Her blonde hair was put up in a neat bun, as opposed to her usual ponytail.

"Your letter didn't say why you wanted to see me." Ingrid got down to business. She put her hands behind her back and set her feet shoulder length apart to make herself look more serious.

"We understand you consulted President Parnassus in your most recent case." Miriam began. Ingrid nodded.

"I suppose I did, though, he was more of a tipster than a consultant." Parnassus did not change his flat expression. Ingrid observed him as the conversation went on.

"The Safety Patrol's first duty is to the safety of the student body. Even so, collaboration between the patrol and the student government has never been on a face to face level. Principal Miller would like to experiment with this concept for the next three months." Ingrid felt a twinge in the corner of her mouth.

"Why call me and not Junior Commissioner Vallejo instead. This is more his department." Parnassus final spoke in his calculating and condescending way.

"Because you answered the call of duty. The Junior Commissioner receives as many as twenty anonymous tips and school board messages a day. On average only two or three of those tips are brought before the patrollers. The backup of unexamined tips and uninvestigated crimes has reached a new level." Ingrid gritted her teeth while Parnassus basically called her friend and boss a useless automaton.

"Even so, I'm only an Officer. I have no say in what cases we investigate." Ingrid's cool was rapidly diminishing at this point. Parnassus kept talking with his smooth face and his smug line of a mouth. That mouth had kissed her only a week ago and Ingrid mentally puked at the recollection. She'd scrubbed her mouth with her toothbrush when she'd returned home that evening.

"Principal Miller is aware that a new criminal element is adding a bit of structure to the regular delinquency of this school." Structure? As in organized crime? Ingrid got a chill. This was new information to her. Did Vallejo know or have his suspicions about an organized element? "In response, he would like the student government and some of X-High's finest to create a crime watch division to directly combat this threat." Ingrid was conflicted now. She hated Brad Parnassus' guts, but this crime watch groups wasn't a bad idea.

"This is all well and good, but you still didn't answer my question." Ingrid remained, physically, unfazed. Finally, someone besides Parnassus took the floor. Cheri should receive a sainthood just for that act alone.

"Duh, we want you to head it Ingrid!" Ingrid was shocked. She'd never led anyone in her life. How could anyone think she was qualified to lead a task force?

"That's very kind of you, but-" Ingrid wanted to object. She tried hard too. The student government wouldn't budge on the matter.

"Starting next week we will make a personal trip to the patrol room with Principal Miller to officially announce this collaboration." Ingrid was then sworn to secrecy, fat chance she'd keep her mouth shut on this topic, and was released from the meeting. Ingrid booked it back to the patrol room. She had to tell Fillmore what was going room was frighteningly empty when she got back. Vallejo was just on his way out the door.

"Third. Good, you're back. Patrol's spread thin with the beat rounds and the decorating committee's call for extra hands. Can you head over to the convention hall to help them out?" Ingrid nodded. She mentally crossed her fingers that Fillmore was hanging lights or throwing glitter on posters as she hurried off. She was disappointed when she didn't spy her partner anywhere in the hall.

"Keep it coming people!" The decorating committee was hard at work setting for the Fall Formal. The theme was southern masquerade ball and so many long curtains were being suspended from the ceiling. A small group of fog machines were being tested to add a bit of mystery to the dance floor. A few of the volunteers from the safety patrol were helping to set up tables and the DJ's booth. Ingrid was among the throng of busybodies and bedazzles.

"Can you put up these baubles? They're gonna looks so sweet under the lights!" Ingrid took the box of hanging glass balls and headed up the ladder to the rafters. The crystal balls were translucent and she could tell they would make beautiful shapes and colors for sure. She almost felt a bit of regret that she wasn't going to the formal with someone special. She'd only ever been to one school dance function and that had been the Dance off/Chili Cook-off. That hadn't actually counted since she'd been on official business with Fillmore to catch a pair of swindlers.

"Watch your step guys!" Someone yelled. A pair of bigger guys carrying an amp toward the main stage took a bad step and slid on some of the unhanged curtains. The amp hit the floor with a loud smack and the guy at the front fell back onto Ingrid's ladder. It swayed violently to the side and the box of glass baubles escaped her grasp and hit the floor. Broken glass would surely have been there to greet her had someone not caught her at the last second.

"You okay?" Ingrid had fallen sideways into the arms of someone she'd never met. He was a lanky freshman with long black hair and tan skin. His dark eyes were stoic, but concerned. He put her down immediately, but kept a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"I think so." Ingrid breathed. The ladder had been caught but the fall onto the broken glass would sure have done her a great deal of harm.

"Alright, show's over! Back to work!" The head of the committee, a girl with wild red hair, waved her arms at some of the workers. Ingrid moved away from the broken glass as someone began to sweep it up. The boy with the long dark hair gave her a quick smile, nothing toothy, just a smile.

"Glad you're okay." He hurried off before Ingrid could give her thanks. Ingrid needed a break from all this bustling about. She found a small space between the far wall and a large piece of sound board. She pulled out her cellphone and hit the first number on her contacts.

"How'd the secret meeting go?" His voice was the nicest thing she'd heard so far.

"The student government is organizing a crime watch committee and wants me to head it." Ingrid blurted out.

"Dawg! You serious?!" Fillmore was at a loss. Ingrid confirmed the nature of the deal.

"Fillmore, I've never lead a horse to water in my life. How am I supposed to lead a whole team?" Her anxiousness was leaking out fast. How many hits was she gonna have to take this school year? Was someone trying to make her head explode from all the mysteries and responsibilities?

"I don't know, Ingrid. You seemed to take the lead pretty well on that case with the Drama Club. You've actually taken the lead on a ton of cases in the past." Ingrid didn't think those cases had really been all her, but she was reassured by her partner's faith in her skills.

"I'm stuck on decorating duty, got any plans for lunch?" Ingrid asked.

"Diann and I were gonna do lunch in the cafeteria. Wanna join us?" Ingrid agreed to meet them at the first lunch bell. Ingrid was about to rejoin the hustle and bustle when her inbox chimed. The message was short and to the point.

CHECK YOUR INBOX

-V

Ingrid grabbed her lunchbox out of her locker. She almost walked out of the patrol room to lunch when a familiar sight caught her eye. Her inbox had a small parcel wrapped in a sheet of the school newspaper. Ingrid put her lunchbox down on her desk and carefully unwrapped the parcel. Inside was one of the glass baubles she'd been hanging. It was about the size of her palm and perfectly round. The paper has a message scrawled in the corner.

I WILL ALWAYS CATCH YOU.

_A/N: This chapter sat on my computer in an open word doc for the last two months and I am so sorry for that! It's been hectic. Just graduated from my high school and have all this summer crap that I cannot avoid no matter how hard I try. Then I made the mistake of getting back into the Supernatural fandom. I basically have been watching a marathon of the last three seasons every day from the crack of dawn till 3 in the morning. My excuses are lame but once again it was you lovely reviewers who motivated me to finish this chapter! I plan to move things along more now that I have time and energy to write. R&R FELLOW FANS!_

_~KungFuHime_


	13. Running on Empty

Ingrid joined the lunch party later than she'd intended. Her first instinct upon discovering the gift had been to call in a favor to the school security system. She requested the tapes from the convention hall and outside the Safety Patrol headquarters. Diann and Fillmore gave her matching looks of concern when she arrived at the table missing her lunchbox and out of breath.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Diann took Ingrid's hand in her own as a soothing gesture. Ingrid invited it. At this point a hug would be real nice.

"It's been a rough day." Ingrid put the bauble and note on the table. Fillmore was stunned.

"When did he deliver this? And what's with that message?" Diann was more confused than Fillmore, having no knowledge of the entire Vermeer saga.

"I was helping out with the decorating committee for the formal. I was hanging these from the rafters and I fell from the ladder. This guy caught me before I landed on a pile of broken glass!"

"Dawg! Was it him?" Ingrid shrugged.

"I don't know. I think it may be him. I have no real clue who that guy was." Diann called for a time out so Fillmore could explain this whole deal.

"Ingrid's been getting notes from this guy calling himself Vermeer. He's apparently an artist and he leaves her notes. Sometimes he leaves her drawings. No real clue why." Diann looked concerned.

"Is that okay? It sounds kinda stalkerish." Ingrid felt a slight offence, but after a moment of silence she saw the reasoning behind it all.

"My biggest concern is Parnassus. He sent me fake notes pretending to be Vermeer. That creep may be the reason the real guy is sort of in hiding." Fillmore agreed.

"On top of that we have this new task force assembling in a week to combat organized crime at X-High." Diann was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the topics of conversation.

"Lot more going on in this place than you'd think. Kinda scary." Fillmore put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Don't worry too much about it. We've got this handled." Ingrid put away the bauble and newspaper.

"I have nothing to eat now." She sighed. "I left my lunchbox in the patrol room." Diann offered half of her salad and chicken salad sandwich, but Ingrid said she would eat later. Fillmore filled them in on the beat work he'd done that morning. He'd busted a guy with a copy of the key for the soda machines and a sophomore who was feeding a freshman's homework to the science class's iguana. Over all it have been a pretty normal day for the beat. The bell rang and everyone went their separate ways. Diann to AP Psych, Fillmore back to the beat, and Ingrid to her desk to eat her lunch.

"Got something for you." Tehama smiled. Ingrid was half way done with a slice of homemade pizza. Tehama placed a package on her desk from the security office.

"Great. Been waiting on that." Tehama nodded and walked back to her desk. Ingrid tore open the tab on the top of the box and pulled out a couple of disks. Each was labeled with the location of the camera and the date. She sifted through the footage from the convention hall for a while before finding the bit of video she'd been looking for. The two big guys who'd been carrying the amp. The accident which had caused her to fall and the miraculous rescue from "Vermeer". Ingrid watched the footage and saw the part she hadn't seen. Vermeer turned and ran off into a sea of hanging curtains and light equipment. Ingrid watched herself walk off. Vermeer returned to the scene and picked up the box of baubles Ingrid had been hanging. He left the frame again and Ingrid did not see him return.

"So that's Vermeer." Ingrid jumped. Tehama was standing behind her.

"How did you-"

"Fillmore told Anza on the beat and he told me. You've been sitting there like a statue for an hour." Ingrid hadn't realized how long she'd been working.

"Yeah. Kinda lost track of time." Tehama nodded, understandingly. Once, she'd studied a pile of fiber samples for forty-five minutes and not noticed that Anza was talking to her the whole time.

"He's not a face I'd forget, but I've never seen him before." Tehama was pointing to the loop of the rescue that Ingrid had constructed. Ingrid nodded. Vermeer, whoever he really was, was definitely Native American looking. His facial features were soft, but projected a seriousness with himself. His hair was just below the shoulder and straight. He wore plain jeans and a long sleeve black shirt. He was different than Ingrid had imagined him to look, but he was a great improvement over Parnassus.

"What's on the other disk?" Ingrid loaded it and fast forwarded it to the timeframe she was looking for. Sure enough, Vermeer was walking up the hallway during the lunch hour. He entered the safety patrol room with the package and exited without it. She lost sight of him as her walked back down the hallway. Oddly enough, he seems extremely calm considering the amount of sneaking around he was doing. His back was to the camera as he rounded a corner.

"What's that?" Tehama pressed her finger to the screen. Ingrid paused the footage and played it back several frames before something came into view. A clip on laminate was hanging from his pants pocket. It has a blurry X-High School ID in it.

"Crackers!" Ingrid gasped. She tried her best to sharpen the image, but it was no use. Security footage isn't high definition, so sharpening a grainy blur only makes it worse.

"I think I can have one of the guys in the AV Club look at it." Tehama offered. "One of them owns me a favor." Ingrid smiled.

"Would you? That would be great." Tehama nodded.

"I'll get on that as soon as I'm done with these papers."

The next day, Ingrid was gathering her things to leave when Vallejo called her into his office. She grimaced when she saw who else was waiting for her.

"Nice to see you again Ms. Third." Principal Miller was standing by the desk. At his side was Parnassus, looking smugger that usual. This couldn't be good.

"Afternoon sir." Ingrid replied, shouldering her backpack. "I was just on my way home."

"If you don't mind, we have some business to discuss with you about the task force." Ingrid nodded, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She missed the days where Principal Folsom would let the patrollers do as they pleased so long as it got the job done. Principal Miller was a bit too hands on for her tastes.

"What's this all about?" Vallejo was equally annoyed about being kept in the building after school had finished for the day.

"We have the task force's first case." Parnassus placed a paper bag on the desktop.

"There is a counterfeiter in our midst making fake tickets and having a scalper sell them for cheap." Ingrid reached for the paper bag, but her hand was swatted away from it by Parnassus. Principal Miller continued, not caring or not noticing the action.

"If the Formal sells over its quota in tickets and comes out below our target in profit we won't be able to pay for the catering and live music. If the school can't pay this event off we can't hold any other events this year. No school events leads to low morale among the student body and low standardized test scores. In short, this crime is hurting everyone at X-High." Ingrid nodded, her interest peaked. If only she could hold back the urge to punch Parnassus' smirking face just for kicks.

"What do you suggest we do?" Ingrid asked.

"I want you to contact the patrollers you wish to join the task force and bring them up to date on the case. Tomorrow you and your team will report to the library to meet with the student council. We will work from there to flush out the criminals before the Fall Formal on Friday."

"Tomorrow?! But you said I had a week!" Ingrid's outrage could not be held in.

"We must accelerate the formation of the task force in light of recent events. This case takes precedence over all your current cases." Parnassus used his superiority in rank against her. Ingrid finally let herself be defeated in this pointless battle and listed the names of her fellow patrollers.

"Fillmore, Tehama, Anza, and O' Farrell." She gritted her teeth as Principal Miller took down the names. She would have picked more had she adequate time to plan. Ingrid felt a little bad for Vallejo. She'd chosen some of his best people and without them he'd be even more shorthanded. When Parnassus and Principal Miller finally left the room Ingrid let out a loud sigh. Vallejo held out a cup of ice cold water from the cooler by his desk.

"You look terrible." He remarked, gesturing toward the chair in-front of his desk.

"I'm fine." She slumped into the seat. Even she didn't believe the words coming out of her mouth.

"You're not okay. It's clear. The amount of crap being dumped on you is unfair, and I'm positive that Parnassus has something to do with it." Ingrid nodded as she sipped on the cool liquid.

"What am I going to do?" She let out. She felt completely exposed in the small space of Vallejo's office, but with her walls finally down she felt no need to hide her vulnerability.

"For one thing; Parnassus is looking way to suspicious a character to ignore. I think this whole task force is to distract us all from something big. Keep an eye on him Third. Another thing," He paused and moved closer to Ingrid. He lowered his voice. "If it all gets to be too much for you then I am more than willing to give you some leave from duty. You've earned the benefit of the doubt from me and your fellow officers." Ingrid nodded.

"Thanks Vallejo."

_A/N: No excuses anymore. I'm seriously just a lazy butt who should be targeted for angry reviews and frowney faces for all eternity. This chapter has been seriously hard on me because I hit a wall. BIG DAMN WALL! Feel free to send me reviews answering these important questions!_

_What is Parnassus' big plan for Ingrid and the Task Force?_

_Why is Vermeer in hiding?_

_What will happen at the Fall Formal?_

_The future of this story depends on you loyal readers!_

_~Himeko_


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